


An Omen in the Bone

by dreabean



Series: The Bone Collectors [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Canon Divergence, Corvo becomes a Witch, Dad!Daud, Daud is Done with your Shit, Emily becomes an Assassin, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fingersmiths, Found Families, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Leviathans, M/M, Madness, Magic, Other, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Devil is a Sneaky Bastard, The One where Daud has a Heart, Theft, Too Many Whalers, Whale Satan, Whaling, Witchcraft, Wreckage and Recovery, because magic that's why - Freeform, slowest burn of all time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: Daud's crisis of conscience is a well documented fact. He knows what fate will befall the young Empress Emily if he leaves her with the Pendelton twins. So he decides not to. The Outsider never saw this outcome in all the worlds and all the possibilities he could touch. How very... fascinating.[Witch!Corvo AU, Assassin!Emily AU, Dad!Daud AU]





	1. 1. DAUD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Troodon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/gifts).



> This is for my darling Troodon, who just recently had a birthday and is also the biggest enabler of all time. This is going to be a pleasant mix of Dishonored and Dishonored 2, where everything except the fact that Jessamine dies and Corvo goes to Coldridge is AU. 
> 
> For those of you seeing this who read my Star Wars fic, fear not! I will post on Mondays as usual. This particular fic will get updated randomly and likely not on a schedule. It's been a fun exercise, trying to write two things at once. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Troo!!! <3 
> 
> I'm at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs, be it Star Wars, Kylux, Dishonored, Mass Effect or literally pretty much anything. 
> 
> Enjoy, my darlings :)

By the time he transverses away, Thomas already has the Empress’ daughter wrapped up in his arms. Despite the fact that he’s kidnapped her, Emily has her fingers wrapped tightly in Thomas’s jacket, shaking and sobbing. Though his face is still covered with his whalers mask, Thomas’ head is tilted just slightly downwards as though in confusion.

 

Daud’s lungs are tight, and there’s a sharp, stabbing pain just beneath his ribs. Billie Lurk had kept Attano down, which means Daud is uninjured. But he’s experienced them before; he knows a mortal wound when he has one.  “Job’s done,” he said roughly, speaking through a throat gone hoarse with pressure and panic. “We’re to meet them on Clavering, Captain’s Hotel. Do you have her?”

 

“What about the others?” Thomas asked, and Daud can see the way Thomas tightens his grip on Emily’s slim shoulders.

 

He waves a hand. “They’ve gone ahead,” Daud responds sharply. “Let’s move.”

 

Thomas murmurs something into Emily’s ear that has her transferring her grip from his coat to around his neck. Daud watches them go first, before following a beat behind. Each transversal hurts like a blow to the belly, but he ducks and dodges over the roofs to the top floor of the Captain’s Hotel.

 

His eyes catch on his men, checking for injury. Lurk seems unharmed, as does Rinaldo and Jenkins. Galia only has a thin cut across her cheek, visible because she’s taken off the whalers mask to deal with the blood. Thomas, still holding Emily tightly, is summarily uninjured though his shoulders slope with exhaustion.

 

“Wait here,” he grinds out, with a sharp look at Lurk and Rinaldo to make doubly certain they stay put. “I’ll check it out.”

 

He can almost hear Thomas and Lurk’s protestations, for all they’re silent, but Daud disappears up the stairs without pausing.

 

Alone on the roof, he leans heavily against the wall, holding his side with too tight fingers. If this is guilt, he wants no part of it. He gives himself ten seconds of deep breaths, before he transverses down towards the Golden Cat.

 

Daud is no stranger to those who hired him, but he trusts them as far as he can throw them; which despite his strength is not far at all. The Pendleton twins, Morgan and Custis are standing by the back door of the whorehouse, fidgety and skittish. “When do you suppose the Knife will appear?” One asks the other and Daud can’t tell which is which. “It should have been by now, certainly.”

 

The other shrugs his shoulders, a bored look on his unattractive face. “Don’t know,” he says with a slur. “Soon, would be my guess. Then once we get the girl, it’ll be no time at all until she’s old enough for work.”

 

The twins snigger unkindly at that and Daud is struck with a familiar sinking sensation. “Prudence is Burrows kept woman,” one says, with an indolent shrug. “She won’t be fussed at how young the whelp is, so long as she pulls her weight.”

 

Daud has heard enough.

 

He can’t kill them, not and get paid, but he can certainly foil their plans a bit. Spinning his wrist to switch his crossbow bolts to the potent sleep darts that Rulfio had handcrafted for him, Daud aims carefully and strikes the Pendleton twins down where they stand.

 

Satisfied that they're snoring and not in any danger of choking to death or smothering themselves in the mud, Daud transverses back up to the roof, striding into the Captain’s hotel room with a thunderous expression. “We’re going,” he barks.

 

“Uh,” Thomas says, jerking slightly and sounding wrong footed. He gestures with his free hand at Emily. "Sir?"

 

“Take the girl with us,” Daud snaps. “She’s not staying here.”

 

“Change in plans, sir?” Lurk asks, sharp and untrusting.

 

Daud sneers. “Something like that. Give the girl to someone else,” he orders Thomas. “I don’t want either of you falling out of the sky.”

 

Emily grips Thomas’ neck tighter in answer and Thomas coughs uncomfortably. “I’ve got her, sir,” he says firmly.

 

Daud watches him carefully for signs of lying or weakness, but finds none. “Fine,” he says. “Go home.”

 

With the sound of displaced air, his men all disappear. He follows after them after another ten seconds to calm his racing heart. They make it back to Rudshore in staggered numbers, Lurk and Galia arriving first, followed by Rinaldo and Jenkins. Thomas arrives just before Daud, staggering under the weight of the girl and his own mana exhaustion.

 

Annoyed, Daud strides over and plucks the protesting Emily out of Thomas’ hands. “Get a remedy, go see Mont, and sit down,” he orders, tossing the girl over his shoulder to her wails. “We’re not to be disturbed,” he adds, as dangerous as an assassin can be with a screaming child in his hands.

 

He transverses up to his office, dropping Emily not ungently onto his bed. “You killed mother,” she says, her face red, tear stained and not afraid at all.

 

Daud is many things, a liar is not one of them. “I did,” he answers her.

 

Her eyes narrow, though the effect is slightly lost with how red and teary they still are. “Why?” she demands, sounding much like a tiny version of her mother.

 

He tilts his head to the side, considering his answer. “I was paid to,” he settles on. “There wasn’t much of an option,” he adds when Emily’s expression remains set. “Do you wish to hear the details?” he asks her, leaning back against the railing of the loft.

 

Her lips purse but Emily nods once. “Tell me,” she demands, but her voice cracks halfway down the middle.

 

“You see,” Daud says carefully, gesturing around the room. “This is my home. That,” he points to where she's sitting, “is my bed. I live here with the men and women who were with us, and quite a few others. All in all, there are forty one people here, including me. They are… family, insofar as people from all islands and walks of life can be family. They were threatened - if I did not kill your mother, then the Overseers would come into this place in droves and kill everyone they could.”

 

Emily frowns, expression more even. “Why?” she asks again.

 

“Surely you don’t believe normal men can transverse from rooftop to rooftop in mere seconds,” Daud says, amused despite himself. “We’re heretics, each of us.”

 

Her eyes go ten coin round, and she looks at him with new eyes. “So you killed mother because it would save your family,” she repeats, tasting the words. “Then… why am I here?”

 

Daud’s lip twist, and she draws back at the expression. “That’s a good question Princess,” Lurk says from the stairs. “We’d all like an answer to that.”

 

“I distinctly remember telling you I didn’t wish to be disturbed,” Daud snarls at her.

 

She shrugs, unconcerned. “Answer the lady’s question,” she says, and leans on the wall, watching with dark eyes.

 

“The plan,” Daud grits out, jaw tight with annoyance and anger, “was to leave you with Morgan and Custis Pendleton.” He can see the words strike home, in the way Emily shrinks a little. She clearly knows the names and their colorful way of life. “They were, however, very vocal about your fate, little girl. You wouldn’t be the first girl to come to us to escape such a life.” This he says directly to Lurk, who goes wide eyed.

 

“Outsider’s Eyes,” she swears lowly. “Did you kill them?”

 

“No,” Daud denies. “They’re useless dead, and Burrows would come down on us like the plague.” He turns back to Emily who is staring at him with childish calculation. “So,” he says. “The situation is this: You have nowhere to go. Your mother is dead, and Corvo Attano will take the fall for my crime. You can’t go back to the Palace because they won’t let you take the throne, and you’ll end up exactly where I almost put you.”

 

Emily lifts her chin, though it still trembles with fine shudders of grief. “Then I will stay here,” she says and he has to give her credit. She sounds like an empress.

 

Daud, amused, bows to her, one hand in a fist over his heart. “You’ll join the Novices in training, Princess, tomorrow mid-morning. Get some rest.”

 

Lurk reaches out and takes Emily’s hand, tugging her away from Daud’s bed. “This way,” she murmurs. “You can have my room to sleep for now.”

 

After they leave the office, Emily peppering Lurk with questions, Daud slumps back against his bed. Since leaving the Captain’s hotel, the sharp pain in his side has dulled to nearly nothing.

 

He destroyed the girl’s life, the least he can do now is give her a new one.

 

*

It takes weeks before Emily stops leaving the room when Daud enters it. She trains diligently, but Rulfio reports that her progress isn't improving and she's unfocused, bonding only with the youngest novice, a boy the older children call Pip. But even with his support, Rulfio notes, she isn't improving. Despite their distinct lack of relationship, Rulfio suggests Daud speak to her. 

 

He disagrees, but it's never worth it to argue with Rulf. 

 

So Daud hovers in the doorway of the training room, watching Rulfio and Rinaldo running the Novices through their paces. Emily is with them, her hair scraped out of her face and tied up in a tiny half tail that he recognizes as Montgomery’s work. The Novices run from one end of the room, touch a thin wine glass with their fingers and return to their starting position.

 

If the glass breaks or falls over, the Novice rights it again and returns to the beginning. Emily is quick and light on her feet, but heavy of hand, and she knocks the glass over more often than not. The fourth or fifth time the glass tumbles to the floor with a tinkle, Emily pauses and Daud sees his moment.

 

He transverses up beside her, ignoring the whispering of the other Novices, most of whom are several years her senior as it is. “Here,” he says gruffly. He scoops the glass up, cradling it in his hands. “Your hands are small,” he adds, lowering his voice for her ears alone. “You don’t need to slam it around for extra power - your mother was tall and slight herself, you will likely inherit her traits. Feel the glass, in my hand. Learn how it feels under your fingertips, and only your fingertips.” He holds out his cupped hands and Emily slowly reaches out and touches the rim of the glass with the lightest of touches.

 

“I just want to do it quick like everyone else,” she says, a hint of a petulant whine in her voice.

 

Daud lifts a corner of his mouth up in a smile. “Everyone else has been doing this for many years,” he points out gently. “They’ve been showing off, yes, but you still have time to learn. Speed is not always the answer,” he adds. “Sometimes it pays to go slow and careful and light.”

 

He puts the glass back down on the floor, upright and gleaming. “Again,” he prompts and Emily hastens to her spot on the opposite side of the room.

 

This time, he watches her face, sees her eyes narrow in concentration. When Rulfio signals, she darts forward, fast but not full speed, and lightly reaches out for the glass. It wobbles, just a little, but remains upright as she pivots gracefully and darts away.

 

“Very good, Princess,” Daud compliments, bowing a little when she smiles, the expression hesitant. “As for the rest of you,” he adds, sending sharp looks at all the novices watching. “You are all five years her senior. You had the benefit of the older Apprentices helping you. Clearly you lot need to have another lesson in teamwork.”

 

Emily stares up at him when the older boys and girls all visibly panic. “Thank you, Mister Daud,” she says, and there is still a shadow in her face the shape of her mother’s death, but each day she trains and the specter haunts her less.

 

Daud dips his head down and transverses away, heading back up to his office on steady feet.

 

It seems Rulfio was right, not that Daud will ever tell him so.

 

At least his heart hasn’t pained him in the weeks since Empress Jessamine died by his hand, and he only hears the soft mocking laughter of the Outsider when he sleeps _sometimes_.

 

“Lurk,” he greets as he heads into his office. “What’s the occasion?”

 

Billie tugs her mask off, dusky skin darker with a growing bruise across her cheekbone. “I finished the contract,” she says, and averts her eyes when he tilts her face up to check out her cheek.

 

“I can see that,” he says, and brushes his fingers over the dark purple mark. “It’s not broken,” he concludes. “What happened?”

 

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable even as she hands over the sack of coin. “I miss timed a transversal, and landed on my face.”

 

That didn’t sound like Billie, and Daud frowns. “You were spotted?”

 

Billie shrugs again, but she also shakes her head. “No, I was outnumbered. You told me the job had to be done and look like an accident. I didn’t expect the estate to have so many guards.”

 

“Go see Mont,” he orders, not unkindly. “Get something to eat, and take a few days.”

 

She bows, and is gone a minute later.

 

Things have been strained between the two of them for some time now. She might have agreed with keeping Emily, but her opinion on his reduced number of jobs is clear to him. Burrows had sent a foray of Overseers to him, and though Daud didn’t consider himself much of a liar, he told them he’d dropped off Emily with the twins, and been on his way. Of _course_ he didn’t know how they’d ended up unconscious.

 

They’d paid him, and gone.

 

He doesn’t think that’s the last of it, but for now, he’s well enough. Unbuckling his many belts, Daud strips himself of most of his weapons, keeping one or two small ones close at hand.

 

Daud turns, dropping onto his bed, running his fingers along the only bone charm he’d ever bothered to keep. “You’ve surprised me,” the Outsider says out of the dim lighting, stepping into Daud’s line of sight. “I don’t believe I thought you could do such a thing anymore.” His eyes - black as pitch and as empty as the sea - are trained on the charm in Daud’s hand. “How very… fascinating.”

 

He hates that word.

 

“I’m not sure which is worse,” he grinds out. “The fact that you think I’d let a ten year old be sold into sexual slavery, or that it’s what it takes to get your attention again.”

 

The Outsider’s lips quirk up into a very small, very smug, smirk. “Old friend,” he says with affected surprise, “whatever makes you think you lost my attention?”

 

Daud snorts, too used to the deity’s fickle ways to rise to the bait. “There are a lot of ways I can answer that question,” he says simply. “None of them would interest you.”

 

Another soft laugh, and the Outsider swirls away, only to reappear beside Daud on the bed. “So, you have kidnapped the Lady Emily and kept her as your own. Will you give her the bond, too? Pervert her story until there is nothing left of the original plot?”

 

Daud narrows his eyes, turning to face the Outsider. “What exactly is that meant to mean?”

 

The smile on the Outsider’s face widens until a hint of sharp teeth show. “It means that I saw every end of this story… and Emily never once ended up here, with you. Well done, Daud. Well _done_.”

 

A moment later and he’s gone, and Daud drops backwards on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Black eyed bastard,” he mutters halfheartedly, and sneers when the deity’s eerie laugh skates through the room on a gust of gentle wind.

 

Scuffled movement at the top of the stairs, sends Daud sitting up and narrowing his eyes. Emily stands there, scuffing one of her feet awkwardly. “Sorry,” she says, awkward and abrupt. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I… wanted to ask a question, and Thomas told me that I’d have to ask you.”

 

Emily is far younger than the Novice’s that Daud has collected over the years. Speaking to her in any way leaves him feeling disconcertingly wrong-footed. “You can ask,” he allows, leaning his elbows on his knees and giving her his full attention.

 

“Will you break into the Coldridge and save Corvo?” she asks, fast, all in a rush.

 

To his own surprise, Daud’s first instinct isn’t an immediate no. The Lord Protector had arrived early, and if he’d just managed to be on time, he’d never have gotten involved in the political bullshittery that had ended up happening. But Coldridge, it's a fortress. No one has ever escaped from the place, not in all the years that Daud has lived in Dunwall.

 

“You realize what you’re asking, Princess?” he asks, instead of giving her a definitive answer.

 

Emily nods, determined. “I do,” she says, and he’s struck for a moment with how she’d have looked as an empress. A pity that chapter is closed to her now.

 

“Coldridge has never been broken into,” Daud reminds her. “Nor has it been broken out of.”

 

She waves that off with all the concern of a ten year old. “You have _magic_ ,” she says, just a hint of awe in her voice.

 

“The Overseers have magic killing music boxes,” Daud says in counterpoint.

 

Emily points at him, scowling. “The Overseers don’t _run_ Coldridge,” she says, triumphant.

 

Daud smiles, almost enjoying himself. “But they do own Holger Square, and every person who is taken for interrogation ends up there.”

 

“Corvo is the Royal Protector, even if he’s… even if they think he killed mother,” she says, only a slight hitch in her breathing betraying how she feels about that. “But he’s still the Royal Protector and he’ll be given privacy, or… at least, they won’t interrogate him in front of a crowd.”

 

He has to admit that’s likely true. “Alright, Princess,” he says slowly. “We’ll start coming up with a plan. _Just a plan_ ,” he barks when Emily shrieks in glee. “I’m unwilling to strand any of my men there, and if we don’t make this as easy to follow as possible, we may be caught before we can begin. Is that clear?”

 

She nods emphatically. “ _Thank you_ , Mr. Daud.” She scampers away and Daud makes a mental note that Emily really and truly needs to go through stealth training before any more endurance tests. She clatters and jumps and Daud can hear her panting breaths long after her image has faded from his Void given gaze.

 

Daud is struck suddenly with the knowledge that he’s in way, way over his head.

 

*

 

It’s six months after Emily joins them that Daud comes up with a solid plan to break Corvo Attano out of prison. It would have been shorter, if Billie hadn’t fought him every step of the way, for reasons she was steadfastly keeping to herself. He includes Emily in most of the planning, simply because if he doesn’t, she finds her way into the room anyway.

 

It’s difficult, first he has to send Thomas into the belly of the beast to find updated plans for the Prison proper. Then, after nearly losing Galia and Kent on a simple mission to scout out Holger Square, Daud doubles patrols.

 

Finally, after six and a half months, they have a workable plan. Daud transverses into his office, finding Emily leaning over the plans and notes and maps. “I wish I could go with you,” she says, but it’s not the sulky tone of a child who’s been told no. She just sounds sad.

 

“If I tried to take you, the Lord Protector would kill me,” Daud says, leaning against the table and looking down at her. “As it stands, he might kill me anyway.”

 

“I know,” Emily says, surprisingly placid. “I have something to give you, and if you show it to him, he’ll know I’m safe.”

 

Daud frowns down at her, and she holds out a folded envelope with Corvo’s name written on it in a shaky, childish hand. “That’s a good idea,” he compliments her gently, amused when she flushes and looks away. “What’s in the letter?”

 

“A drawing,” Emily answers, fidgeting. “I always used to draw him pictures. He’ll recognize it.”

 

He folds it into his jacket pocket, holding his hand over it as he bows to her. “I’ll keep it safe,” he promises, and she smiles, a little shaky, a little sad.

 

She opens her mouth to say something, but the loudspeaker outside in the Flooded District suddenly rattles to life, the City Speaker coming online. “Attention Dunwall Citizens,” he drones on, and Emily winces at the volume. “The Lord Protector, Corvo Attano, assassin of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, is dead.”

 

Daud darts a glance down to Emily, who is white faced and staring in shock up at him. “He’s dead?” she whispers, she staggers back away from the table, mouth covering her hand. She stares up at Daud, head shaking in denial before her eyes roll up into the back of her and she collapses. Clenching his fist and summoning Thomas, Kent, Billie and Rinaldo, Daud lifts Emily effortlessly into his arms.

 

“You four,” he barks at them as soon as they appear. “Go find out how true that is, stick together, be careful and _don’t get caught._ Go!”

 

The sound of displaced air heralds their exits, and Daud carries Emily straight to Mont down in their makeshift infirmary. “Is she alright?” Mont asks, taking her and laying her on the bed. “Seems the shock has finally caught up to her, poor girl.”

 

Daud bows his head. “If the Lord Protector is dead,” he murmurs, “there is nothing stopping Hiram Burrows from taking over the entirety of Dunwall.”

 

Montgomery blinks at him, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “There’s you,” he points out gently.

 

“No,” Daud says, looking down at the unconscious Emily. “That way is closed to us now. Once the others come back from finding out if Attano is truly dead, start packing. We won’t be safe here.”

 

*tbc


	2. 2. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get the other side of the story. Corvo gives up his life, his hope and his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dani, if not for you, this one wouldn't have been written. None of this would exist. And Emily, even though you're never going to read this (seriously sister, just finish Dishonored 1 okay?) 
> 
> As ever, I can be found at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your Dishonored needs. <3

Six months, and Corvo has given up all hope.

 

They'd come to him, Curnow and his guards, and told him Emily too had been found dead. _'Just confess,_ ' Geoff had begged him. Corvo had refused; he was innocent and he would not take the fall for someone else’s crime.

 

So Corvo grits his teeth and hardens his heart and prepares. No one is coming for him; his lover is dead, his daughter is dead, and everyone he’s ever cared for has turned on him.

 

“In all the ways the universe could have spun this moment,” a quiet voice says from the corner of his cell, “this was the one I gave the least credit. I suppose even I can still be surprised.”

 

Corvo whirls, arms coming up into a defensive position, though blood splatters the ground from the wounds he’d sustained from the last session with the Royal Torturer. A figure coalesces out of the darkness, stepping towards him without regard for his fists. “My dear Corvo,” the being chides,  and in the single shaft of light from the oil lamps, Corvo can finally see its face.

 

His visitor is pale, dark haired, his clothing an oily liquid spill across broad shoulders. It’s his eyes though, that send Corvo staggering back. His eyes are ink, black from lid to lid, and far more ancient than human. “The Outsider,” Corvo murmurs, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

 

The being smirks, settling himself onto Corvo’s pallet with a half bow. “Our first meeting was foretold, before you were even a thought in the mind of your mother,” the Outsider says, contemplative and ponderous. “Perhaps not in this way, but you were always meant to be here.”

 

“Jessamine was always meant to die?” Corvo asks sharply, a pang of hurt and anger dragging his heart down into his stomach.

 

“Yes,” the Outsider answers, like he isn’t ripping out Corvo’s spine vertebrae by vertebrae.

 

Corvo exhales harshly, shoulders dropping. He sits, not on the bed, but on the floor by the Outsider’s leg. He notices, with some alarm, that the dark fine pant leg trails off into the darkness at the floor, rather than ending in boots or feet. “Are you here to take me?” he wonders.

 

“Take you?” The Outsider asks, amused. “No, my dear, I’m not taking you anywhere.” He reaches out, stroking a hand through Corvo’s fine and filthy hair. “I’m here to offer you a gift. Once, you may have received this in very different ways but now… the future is as clear as mud.” He smiles, tilting Corvo’s chin up. “Do you want it?”

 

Slowly, Corvo nods. “If we were always meant to get here, then yes. I’ll accept your gift.” He pauses, frowning up at the deity. “What do you want in return?”

 

The Outsider takes Corvo’s hand. “Oh, simply continue being so very fascinating, my dear. I look forward to seeing how your story unfolds.” He lifts Corvo’s hand, and presses a cool kiss to the back of it, and where his lips touch, black ink spreads in a burning, stinging design.

 

When he looks up again, the Outsider is gone. On the bed, in the exact place the Outsider had been sitting sits a dark feather, the only sign he’d been in the room at all.

 

The mark on his hand is glowing, just faintly, enough that he can’t ignore it especially in the dark of his cell. Clenching his fist, the glow curls out of him, and with a rush of sensation, Corvo finds himself across the room, by the tiny window.

 

Shocked, he turns and stares at the bed, covered in black, fluttering feathers that glimmer just slightly with the purple glint of the void.

 

He looks down at his hand, and it flashes once again. When Corvo looks up, a crow with violet eyes sits on the ledge of his window. It opens its mouth, but instead of a harsh cawing, a painfully familiar voice emerges from it. “ _Why am I so cold?_ ” it asks him, and Corvo recoils. The crow hops off the ledge, landing gently on his shoulder, heedless of his attempts to wave it off. “ _Can you hear them too_ ?” it asks, fixing Corvo with one black eye. _“Crying out in the dark?”_

 

Corvo licks his lips with a too dry tongue. “J--- Jessamine?” he whispers to it and it presses a cool beak against his temple.

 

“ _I will be glad to rest,_ ” the crow says in a mournful whisper. “ _I am not alive - nor have I received the gift of death.”_

 

He chokes off a sob, reaching up and burying his fingers in thick, warm feathers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to it - no, _her_ , “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  


The crow tilts her head up, throat working in a loud screaming caw. “ _What have they done to me_?” she demands, and Corvo loses the battle with tears.

 

As Corvo sits in the corner of his cell, sobs shaking his shoulders, the Crow jumps from his shoulder to his knee, fixing him with a dark glare. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, reaching out for the crow.

 

She nips his fingers gently. _“It’s time to go, my love_ ,” she says clearly. “ _Run._ ”

 

Corvo stands, and the Crow easily transfers her perch from his knee back to his shoulder. She grips him tight enough that he can feel the pricking of her talons in his too thin shoulder. Mechanically, Corvo climbs up to look out the window, peering into the rainy darkness. “How..?” he wonders.

 

“ _There_!” the Crow says, and takes off, leaping from his shoulder into the starless night, winging down the side of the prison. _“Come to me, my love_ ,” she whispers on the wind. Corvo reaches out, and the mark on his hand flares gold.

 

His body is weightless for a brief, unending second before he _is_ the Crow and the Crow is him. Together they fly from the prison bars, out over the Wrenhaven. From their vantage point, they can see the walls, the bridges, the water. The world is a filmy black grey that has never looked more beautiful than it does now.

 

They bank against the cold wind, and just over a bridge that he hardly recognizes, they begin their descent. They land on an overturned boat, and Corvo stumbles, falling to his knees.

 

He looks up, pushing his soaked hair out of his face, trying to look around and see where the Crow has taken him. “The Hound Pits Pub?” he asks, turning to look at the Crow who grooms herself, unconcerned.

 

“ _Fortunes have been made here, and lives have been lost_ ,” she tells him.

 

Corvo drags himself to his feet, stumbling across the yard towards the door. He’s exhausted, freezing, and his stomach has long stopped bothering to tell him when he’s hungry. He pushes open the door, shocked when the light hits him. There’s a gasp, the sound of shattered glass, and when Corvo tumbles to the floor, strong arms are there to stop him from hitting it.

 

There are voices floating around him but he can barely focus on them, until he’s lifted and brought to a nearly burning hot room. “Easy,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Easy, you’re safe here. Cecelia is getting you something to eat, just relax.”  


He forces his eyes open, seeing an older man with greying hair sitting beside him. He’s in a room, heater on and glowing brightly, and pouring out warmth. The bed is comfortable, downy and covered in a thick green blanket. “Wh…?” he says, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Easy,” the man says. “My name is Samuel, Samuel Beechworth. I promise you, no harm will come to you here.”

 

Corvo looks over Samuel’s shoulder, finds the Crow sitting on the bookshelf. _“The boatman has a good heart,_ ” is all she offers, before tucking her beak under a wing and going to sleep.

 

A figure comes through the doorway, red headed and slight and Corvo blinks stupidly at them, even as Samuel presses a warm bowl into his hands. “It looks like it’s been some time since your last meal, friend,” he says kindly. “It’s just sausage broth, with some bread hunks tossed in, but it should warm you a bit.”

 

He looks down at the food, taking a small sip. It’s _delicious_ , warm and a little spicy, and it fills his stomach and throat with a heat that radiates out into his limbs. He eats quickly, ignoring Samuel when the old man tries to get him to slow down. Once the bowl is empty and his stomach feels fuller than it has in almost seven months, Corvo looks around the room with new eyes.

 

Samuel hands Corvo something else. “Here, drink this.”

 

It’s a remedy, red and glowing and he drinks it eagerly. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

 

“You must get this a lot,” Samuel says, plucking the bowl from his lax hands. “But you bear more than a passing resemblance to the old Lord Protector.” Corvo freezes, staring over at Samuel in shock. The man looks amused, rather than angry, and Corvo hesitantly starts breathing again. “Don’t worry, Lord Attano,” he adds, and pats Corvo on the arm. “You’re safe here.”

 

His Crow stirs, lifting its wing. _“He respects you_ ,” she tells him. _“The common folk are simple minded and selfish… but these ones are kind.”_

 

Corvo relaxes. “Call me Corvo,” he says. “I’m a lord of nothing, now.”

 

Samuel nods. “How did you escape?”

 

“I… had some help,” Corvo admits, and slides his left hand under the blanket.

 

He expects to be questioned, but Samuel just smiles, perhaps a little knowingly, and stands. “Get some rest, Corvo. I’ll wake you up in a few hours with more broth. You have a long road ahead of you.”

 

He shuts the door behind him, but doesn’t dim the oil lamps, leaving Corvo in blazing warmth and brightness. “Jessamine?” he whispers, and the Crow stirs, lifting her head up.

 

“ _Is it the month of Harvest? Time has lost all meaning,_ ” the Crow murmurs, fluffing up her feathers. _“I don’t… remember. Is this what life is like?_ ”

 

Corvo winces, closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Jessamine.”

 

 _“I will be glad to rest_ ,” the Crow says, and Corvo falls asleep between one breath and the next.

 

*

 

He doesn’t know for how long he sleeps, only that Samuel wakes him three times to give him more broth with dark bread, until he wakes naturally on his own. The sun his high in the sky when Corvo rolls over on the bed, and he sits up in a panic.

 

It hadn’t been a dream.

 

His Crow flits over to him in alarm, resting on his shoulder. “ _Hush my love_ ,” she says, pressing her beak to his chin. “ _You are safer here than any other place in the city._ ”

 

Corvo takes several deep breaths, before rising on a shaky legs and going for the door. There’s a woman sweeping a few feet away and she nearly leaps out of her skin when he steps through the doorway. “Outsider’s eyes,” she says, leaning over her broom. “But you gave me a fright.”

 

He hesitates, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I apologize,” he mumbles.

 

She waves him off, tucking dark hair behind her ears. “Don’t you worry your head over it,” she drawls, a thick Gristol accent clinging to her vowels. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up anyway, Lord Attano. If it’s a bath you’ll be wanting, come this way.”

 

A bath sounds like heaven.

 

He follows her down the hall, and waits more or less patiently for her, and Samuel to bring up hot water. “Glad to see you up and about, Corvo,” the boatman says, patting his elbow kindly. “Lydia, Cecilia and I are pleased you’re recovering.”

 

He nods once, dipping his chin down. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I doubt I would have survived without your kindness.”  


Lydia nudges him into the bathroom, holding out a stack of fabric. “Here you go, Master Corvo,” she says, smiling. “It’s not as fine as you’re used to, but it’s clean and dry.” She winks, her grin widening. “Just you let me know if you need some company.”

 

Corvo stares at her, while Samuel makes disgruntled noises behind him, ushering Lydia out. “Give the man some privacy, for Outsider’s sake,” he complains. He twists to watch them go, Samuel prodding Lydia in the shoulder as she laughs and calls him names.

 

Just as he swings the door closed, his Crow flies in, settling itself on the mirror and preening in the steam as it floats out of the bath. “ _Such laughter!_ ” she calls, and if a crow could look disapproving, Corvo is certain it would look like his Crow at that moment.

 

“Trust me,” he murmurs, stripping out of his torn and filthy prison garb, “I have no intention of inviting her in here.” The Crow caws out something that sounds like a laugh, settling in to watch the door.

 

The water is almost too hot, stinging his flesh as he lowers himself slowly. The strength in his arms is shaky but better than it was when he was in the prison cell. He can feel himself slowly healing, thanks to food, and the elixir that Samuel has been slipping him.

 

“ _They cry out in the streets, the murderer is dead,_ ” the Crow says suddenly, and Corvo looks up sharply, just in time for the Royal Announcer to jangle online.

 

“Attention Dunwall Citizens,” he announces, and Corvo braces himself. “The Lord Protector, Corvo Attano, assassin of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, is dead.” He flinches, because it’s been three days, and it means they didn’t bother checking his cell in all that time. Truly, he’s lucky he _isn’t_ dead.

 

His crow fluffs her feathers, turning her head to eye him. “ _Call, and we will answer.”_

 

Corvo raises an eyebrow. “Which means?” he wonders.

 

The crow is disconcertingly silent for the rest of his bath, and Corvo emerges twenty minutes later feeling more like himself than he has in months. His hair is clean and tied out of his eyes, his Marked hand is wrapped in dark blue fabric that reminds him of his old coat. He makes his way down the stairs towards the main pub, and draws up short when he finds all three occupants standing in the doorway.  “What’s wrong?” he asks, alarmed.

 

His crow flutters down the hall after him, alighting on his shoulder. Samuel turns to face him, eyes on the crow rather than on Corvo’s face. He gestures outside and Corvo peers over their shoulders.

 

On every available surface sits a black feathered crow, glinting purple in the afternoon light. “... Oh,” he murmurs.

 

Samuel snorts, but not unkindly. “Seems like you’ve made a few friends,” he comments, pushing Cecilia and Lydia out of the doorway. “Come on then,” he offers. “We’ll have an early dinner.”

 

Corvo’s Crow leaps off his shoulder and flies out to join her brethren, before the door closes behind her. So he sits at the bar next to Cecilia, while Lydia and Samuel bustle around the bar. “I don’t think you killed her,” the quiet girl murmurs, not looking him in the eye.

 

He clears his throat, afraid to spook her even more. “I appreciate that, thank you.”

 

Lydia places several slices of dark brown bread in front of him, covered in sweet butter. “Here,” she says, and Corvo slides it between himself and Cecilia, wordlessly offering her half the fare.  

 

Once everyone has a plate of food in front of them, Samuel leans his elbows on the bar. “What are you plans, Corvo?” he wonders. “You’re welcome to stay here, if you like.”

 

Spoon halfway to his mouth, Corvo thinks about it. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” he says slowly. “But… I fear I would only bring you more trouble that you deserve. Even if they truly think I’m dead, I’d be confined here, forcing you to hide me. I couldn’t do that, not when you’ve already offered me such kindness.”

 

Samuel nods, looking like he expected that. “Of course,” he says. “At least stay until you’re back to your old self, Corvo.”

 

Thinking of the Mark on his left hand, Corvo nods. “Thank you, again. All of you. If I hadn’t found my way here, I’d be dead for certain.”

 

Smirking a little, Samuel’s eyes dip down to Corvo’s hands, just very slightly. “The Outsider works in mysterious ways,” he says lightly.

 

Corvo rolls his eyes, going back to his plate.

 

*

 

Narrowing his eyes, Corvo reaches out with his Marked hand and Blinks, aiming for the ledge by the kegs. He appears exactly a foot away from his intended destination, falling flat on his face, several feet down.

 

The crows, all sitting on the roof and tower around him, burst into cawing that sounds like breathy, ethereal laughter and he scowls up at them. “I’d like to see you lot do any better!” he calls back, and they just laugh harder. He sits up, rubbing his chest where hard stones had dug in.

 

“Do you want some advice?” Samuel asks, looming over him, holding out a hand for his.

 

Taking it and letting Samuel heave him to his feet, Corvo runs his free hand through his hair. “Sure,” he answers, feeling sheepish. “You… seem very at ease. With this.” He gestures to his wrapped hand.

 

Samuel shrugs. “I’m not so devout,” he answers. “Knew a witch, when I was much younger. Her name was Amaranth, and she… well, she was everything. Couldn’t do the things you’ve been trying, no, but she had a Mark, just like you.”

 

Corvo had lived in Dunwall Tower long enough to hear whispers about witches, but had never given them much thought before now. “Is that what I am?” he wonders out loud, falling into step with Samuel. “A witch?”

 

Amused, Samuel shoots him a look. “No, sir. I think you’re just a heretic. If you wanted to become a witch, you’d need to do other things too. Aren’t many witches around here, but I’m sure you could find some.”

 

“Where?” His Crow, slightly larger than the others, flits down to land on his shoulder.

 

Samuel glances at it. “That’s a good start, yeah.”

 

“ _The Witches of Brigmore Manor were just heretics,_ ” his Crow says, combing her beak through Corvo’s messy hair. “ _Once.”_

 

Corvo makes a noncommittal noise, and Samuel nods once. “You _can_ understand them,” he states. “I thought so.”

 

He nods once. “They speak with the voices of the dead,” he answers the unspoken question.

 

Samuel slams to a stop, causing Corvo to walk several feet ahead of him, before he turns to look at him. The horror splashed over Samuel’s face makes him blink, and he steps forward. “The voices of the dead,” Samuel repeats. Corvo nods, a little confused. It still throws him off, just a little, when he hears Jessamine’s voice come out of his Crow, and he thinks it’s going to hurt for the rest of his life, but it’s also a little comforting.

 

To know she’s with him still.

 

“What’s wrong?” Corvo asks him, truly not understanding.

 

“It’s a cruel thing the Outsider did,” Samuel says, a thread of angry steel through his voice. “To give you that.”

 

Corvo tilts his head to the side, feeling the Crow on his shoulder echo him. “I don’t understand,” he says plainly.

 

“You’re going to hear their voices, Corvo,” Samuel says. “If you don’t hear them already. Jessamine and Emily.”

 

He stills, thinking it over. When he’s with the flock, the crows all speak with overlapping voices, women, men, children. Only the one Crow sounds like Jessamine - and none of them, none of them at all sound like Emily. “Oh,” he murmurs.

 

“It’s already begun,” Samuel says, correctly reading his face. “You can already hear them.”

 

He clears his throat. “Not Emily,” he murmurs. “Never her.”

 

Samuel touches his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You didn’t deserve this.”

 

Corvo shrugs, eyes on the ledge he’d missed before. “Don’t I?” he asks rhetorically, and Blinks away before Samuel can censure him. He turns to the crows on the roof. “Where is she?” he asks. “Where is my daughter?”

 

There’s a long pause as the crows shift awkwardly, before one by one they launch into the air and fly out over the Wrenhaven, disappearing from view. All but for the one on his shoulder. “ _I’m sorry, my love,_ ” she says in a broken wail. _“I cannot find her._ ”

 

Corvo kneels in front of her, holding his hands out. She obligingly hops closer, settling the bulk of her body into his palms. “What does that mean?” he asks, heartbroken and exhausted.

 

The Crow rubs her beak along the inside of Corvo’s left wrist. “ _I only know that I am tired,_ ” she says.

 

He scoffs. “That is not an answer,” Corvo protests, and the Crow nips his skin lightly.

 

“ _I am tired_ ,” the Crow says again, settling into his hands. “ _How long, my dearest? How long must I endure this shadow state?”_

 

Corvo had been willing to ignore Samuel’s supposition that it had been cruel for the Outsider to give him Crows that spoke with Jessamine’s voice. Now, he is sitting on the filthy floor of an abandoned pub, cradling a crow to his chest, while his heart leaves bloody ribbons on the floor.

 

“ _What I wouldn’t give to hold your hand in mine, one last time,_ ” the Crow says, and Corvo makes an agonized sound that echoes through the room. He leaves the Crow on the ledge, backing away.

 

“No,” he says, voice cracked and broken. “No, you aren’t her, you _can’t_ be her.”

 

The Crow hops towards him, head tilted so the purple void eye is fixed on him. _“You rely on me to show you the right path. To show you the way. No. Let us be lost together, for just a little longer.”_

 

Corvo howls. The Crow reaches his side but he flings out his left hand and Blinks away, landing in the middle of the court yard, slamming hard into the earth. He can hear Samuel shouting, the sound of Cecilia shrieking, but over it all, the mass of crows begins cawing.

 

They swarm over the the building, descending upon Corvo’s position. _“Don’t leave us,”_ one screams. “ _I’m not sick, I swear! I don’t have the plague, daddy, don’t leave me out here alone!”_

 

He covers his ears. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!” he shouts at them.

 

The mass of birds circles him, winging down toward him, screaming with the voices of a hundred weepers, empresses, and children. “ _Join us,_ ” they whisper, flying around him in a vortex of black wings and purple eyes. _“Join us, Corvo, come with us. We can show you the way. You can bring her back._ ”

 

The tide of panic crests and Corvo lashes out with his left hand, trying to Blink out of the storm of feathers and wings. “Let her rest, damn you,” he bellows but his voice is lost in the wind.

 

“ _You can find her, you can save her soul, Emily screams your name, listen to us, listen to us, LISTEN TO US_ ,” the Crows scream at him, and Corvo can’t - he isn’t - he won’t do it.

 

He reaches out with his left hand and pulls.

 

The sounds stop, the crows are frozen in place, flying around his position in a maelstrom of the void and magic. He steps out of the eye of their hurricane, sees Samuel, just as frozen as the birds, reaching out for him. Cecilia and Lydia huddle by the door, horrified and cowering. The entire world is grey and still, and blessedly, thankfully silent.

 

He walks a few short steps away, staring down at his glowing Mark. He shakes out his hand and the spell ends. The crows turn as one, and Corvo stares them down. “Enough,” he growls. “I won’t hear anymore of that. If you’re here to help me, then _enough_. I don’t follow you. _You_ follow _me._ ”

 

The crows land, spread out over the yard, a sea of black feathers. “ _Yes, yes, I’ll tell you anything you want, please_!” One caws out, head tilted towards the sky.

 

Corvo nods once. “Go,” he tells them.

 

As one unit, the crows take off, flying up over the Hound Pits, and disappearing into the distance. His Crow flies down from the ledge and settles on his shoulder. _“I am sorry, my love_ ,” she says mournfully. _“This was never meant to be our story._ ”

 

“Perhaps not,” he tells it, eyes on Samuel. “But it is now.”

 

He meets Samuel across the yard, eyes dry. “Are you alright?” Samuel asks, brushing his hands over Corvo’s torso, as though looking for wounds.

 

He nods. “We’ve… come to an understanding,” Corvo says. “But it’s become more clear than ever that I need to get out of Dunwall.”

 

Samuel nods, leading him back into the Hound Pits. “I have a few contacts that might be able to help,” he offers. “I can get you on a whaling ship - and those masks they wear will hide your face from being recognized. Where will you go?”

 

Corvo looks out, through the still open door and to the Wrenhaven. “I suppose,” he says, with a heavy heart. “It’s time to go home.”

 

“Where is home?” Samuel asks, gently.

 

Turning back to face him, Corvo’s gut response is Dunwall Tower. “Karnaca,” he answers.

 

*


	3. 3. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time passes, and Daud deeply regrets everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realize that this huge jump is sort of random. I also realize that all our heroes up and fucked off from Dunwall in the middle of a plague. I promise, we're going to circle back around, we're completely off the rails now. 
> 
> During my play through of Dishonored 2, I found a ridiculous penny novel of Daud that explicitly stated he had no interest in sex. I have decided then, to keep him as close to that character trait as possible. Being demisexual myself, I tried to explore how someone might feel about this sort of thing with as much dignity as one could muster.
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns at all about anything, please come find me on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is for my beloved Dani, who posted such an amazing fic herself today. <3

 

**[Five Years Later]**

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Daud!” Emily protests, darting in front of him so he can’t continue to walk away from her. “You won’t even listen?” He stops, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. Taking the pose as permission, Emily tugs a bit of paper out of her back pocket. “First,” she says authoritatively, “I passed all of Rulfio’s tests last year. Second, I passed all of Rin’s training six months ago.” She looks at him from over the top of the page but Daud doesn’t let his expression change. “Um,” she says, looking back down. “I pickpocketed six men in the Aventa Quarter a week ago which bought us a weeks worth of food.” She clears her throat, shoving the paper back into her pocket. “And! You gave Thomas the Arcane Bond when he was my age.”

 

From his position in a chair in the corner of their shared common room, Thomas says very mildly, “Please don’t bring me into this, Princess,” without looking up from his book.

 

Daud snorts loudly and Thomas finally looks up. “Alright,” Daud says and Emily brightens. “I’ll give you the Arcane Bond on one condition.” She nods enthusiastically. “You may be a skilled fingersmith out in Karnaca,” he says while she beams, “but you have yet to steal from me. Take my room key from my belt without my noticing, and I’ll give you the Arcane Bond.” Daud reaches around and shows her the key and where he places it on his belt. “If I catch you,” he adds seriously, “You will begin your training again, with both Rulfio and Rinaldo.”

 

Emily’s smile fades into a determined expression that reminds Daud painfully of her mother. “I agree,” she says firmly. “Thank you, Daud!” She immediately turns and scampers away, thankfully not stupid enough to attempt a theft right then.

 

Thomas snickers quietly to himself, and Daud scowls at him. “What?” he grumbles, kicking out a chair and joining his second in command in the darkened shade of the corner.

 

“Nothing, sir,” Thomas says, but the grin still playing around the corner of his mouth gives him away. Daud stares at him until he sighs and closes the book, giving Daud his full attention. “You go easy on her,” he says, not unkindly. “Since Billie left…” he trails off.

 

Five years, and Billie’s betrayal still hurts like a blow to the back. They’d packed up the Flooded District as quickly as they were able to, sending teams of Whalers to and from the area to take whatever they could to the docks. Once everything of importance had been taken, they’d agreed to meet in the morning, ready to escape the the city, the plague, and possibly Burrows.

 

The morning of their departure, Billie hadn’t joined them. Daud had delayed as much as he could, paying as much coin as they could spare to the Captain of the ship they were hiring to wait. Thomas, Rinaldo and Jacobi had returned to Rudshore, searching everything. The abandoned butchers shop where Billie had slept was empty of her things.

Only her whaler’s mask had been left behind.

 

The next time he’d seen Billie was when Burrows had stepped down as Regent in return for a woman named Delilah Kaldwin, the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Euhorn Kaldwin who had been raised outside of Dunwall. The printings of her crowning depicted a familiar face at her left shoulder, named only as Lady Lurk, the Royal Protector.

 

“Yes,” Daud murmurs. “Since Billie left.”

 

Thomas reaches over the table and pats Daud’s wrist, just above his gloves. “You’ve always done right by us,” he says. “Most of us wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” he adds when Daud just brushes him off. “Emily especially. Outsider’s eyes, if not for your involvement, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

 

Daud snorts softly, leaning back in the comfortable plush chair. “I don’t require my ego to be stroked today, Thomas,” he drawls.

 

Immediately, Thomas leans over the table to press his bare hand to Daud’s forehead. “Well you don’t _feel_ warm,” he says doubtfully.  

 

Knocking his hand away, Daud snarls. “Insubordination,” he mutters, and Thomas leans back in his seat looking satisfied. “What do you rate her odds?” he asks.

 

“Of lifting your key?” Thomas responds, lifting one eyebrow slightly in question. “Do you wish for an honest assessment, sir?”

 

“Of course,” Daud answers, though it _isn’t_ just a matter of course. Thomas had become his second in command shortly after their arrival in Karnaca, effortlessly finding them lodgings and later, jobs. Now Daud uses him primarily for judgement and the occasional face for their new legal work.

 

Thomas taps a finger against the corner of his mouth, chewing on the inside of his lip. “She’ll be able to do it,” he says after a moment’s thought.

 

“If?” Daud prompts.

 

Smiling a little, Thomas dips his head in acknowledgment. “If,” he agrees, “she slows down and thinks. Impulsivity has ever been her problem, and she’s at exactly the right age for acting without thinking. Jenkins, Jacobi, Aedan and several others had this same issue.”

 

“You didn’t,” Daud points out, leaning his elbows on the table between them and leaning closer.

 

Thomas waves that off. “I was hardly a normal recruit now was I?” he asks. “You pulled me from the jaws of a nightmare. Wherever we go, whatever we do; I’m your man.” He looks a trifle embarrassed at the thought and adds quickly, “But with Emily, you had a lot of work to do before she trusted you like I did.”

 

Nothing truer had ever been spoken.

 

Emily had spent their voyage close to Galia or Thomas, avoiding Daud entirely. Finding out that Attano had died in prison, even if he’d been willing to rescue the man, had turned Emily from him completely. It had taken almost a year before Emily was able to be in the same room with him, let alone allow him to teach her anything.

 

She’d never tried to run, never outwardly opposed him or caused him issues. But ‘ease’ had been a long time coming.

 

Daud sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Thomas,” he says. “Spread the word for all active whalers that we’re to have a meeting tonight after dinner, would you?”

 

“We have a new job?” Thomas wonders, even as he puts a bookmark in his novel and stands.

 

Daud nods. “Possibly,” he says.

 

Thomas bows a little, then vanishes, air fluttering with bits of the void before they disappear into the shadows.

 

*

 

Daud leans back against the bookshelf, waiting for the whalers to settle. In the five years since they’d moved to Karnaca, some of the whalers had left the company to do other things. A few had settled down, a few had stayed with the whaling ship. Daud never forced them to stay within the company, instead simply allowing their Bond to fade to nothing.

 

Once the room has filled to capacity, there were twenty whalers in attendance and four Novices. Thomas stands by his side, with Galia on his left. “Listen up,” Daud grinds out, “we’ve gotten a few requests,” he announces to some clapping and cheering.

 

“Shut it,” Galia says with her thick Morley accent. “Captain’s talking!”

 

Daud rolls his eyes and taps the ledger on the table next to him. “The first request is from Kirin Jindosh, who sent for subjects to test out a clockwork maze. He promises all subjects will remain living, breathing and none the worse for wear.” The room is silent, and Daud adds, somewhat gently, “this one is by volunteer only.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Jacobi says, leaning on his javelin. “Kristoff will come with me.”

 

Kristoff spins around, throwing a pillow at Jacobi’s head who ducks it smoothly. “He said volunteer!” he protests.

 

Jacobi shrugs one shoulder without concern. “I voluntold you. It’s the same thing.”

 

Daud scowls at them both. “Enough. Report to Jindosh’s service entrance in two days.” He looks back down at his paper. “Galia, Ashya, and Kita, I need you three to go to the Captain’s Stern. The Madame there contacted us in regards to some missing girls. Says they went out on jobs, and never came home.”

 

Galia’s nose wrinkles but she nods while Kita and Ashya shiver. “Undercover?” Kita wonders out loud and Daud shakes his head. “Good. We’ll be there. Give us a few days to get ready.”

 

He goes through the rest of the list quickly, emptying out the room as he ticks off point by point. After people disperse, Daud is left alone and he sighs, sitting in one of the recently vacated chairs. The world darkens around him, and his head thumps back against the chair. “What do you want, you black eyed bastard?” he grumbles.

 

“Why do you always assume I want something, old friend?” comes the smooth answer, and Daud opens one eye to glare balefully at the deity. “Perhaps I am here to offer comfort.”

 

Daud snorts. “You? Comfort me?” He closes his eye again. “Did the Void freeze over, or something?”

 

He can _hear_ the Outsider frown. “No,” the god says indignantly. “You are concerned, and worried. Perhaps I came to help.”

 

Resigned to the rest of the conversation, Daud sits up, rubbing the back of his neck and giving the Outsider his full attention. “I appreciate the thought,” he says, only a little sarcastic. “But I doubt there’s anything you can do. I have to live with myself, and there’s no cheating that sort of thing.” He opens his eyes to find the Outsider sitting cross legged on the divan across from him, floating ever so slightly above it.

 

The Outsider cocks his head to the side. “It’s been some time since the Empress died,” he says in a tone of complete bafflement.

 

“Five years, little over,” Daud agrees. “Maybe you can brush that time away as insignificant, but I can’t. I’m only human.” He flexes his right hand, where he can still feel the way his sword had pierced Jessamine’s chest. “We can’t all be older than the rocks we’re standing on.”

 

“Five years,” the Outsider repeats. “That is a drop in the ocean, true. I’m surprised at you, old friend.”

 

Daud snorts. “You are not, nothing surprises you.”

 

The Outsider looks away, gazing out the nearby window. “Some things do,” he murmurs, and there’s something in his voice that Daud can’t place. “You’ve stopped being boring, Daud,” the Outsider adds, giving him a sidelong look.

 

“Happy to be of service,” Daud drawls.

 

Waving him off, the Outsider disappears in a plume of smoke, fragments of the void, appearing at the window. “Things are happening here,” the Outsider adds, instead of responding to Daud’s sarcasm. “You’re in the thick of it, old friend. Or will be. How you react from here will shape the future of Karnaca.” The Outsider turns his head, backlit from the setting sun. “Good luck,” he offers, and for the first time in their long acquaintance, he seems _young_.

 

“Well if _you’re_ offering me luck, I know whatever shit is going on has to be bad,” Daud mutters with amusement, watching the Outsiders face carefully. Something that almost looks like hurt streaks across his expression before the deity vanishes with his customary fluttering of the void.

 

Muttering to himself, Daud stands up and goes to the window, watching a flock of crows wheel overhead and disappear into the distance.

 

*

 

A week after sending his men out on jobs, Daud goes to check in with Galia and Kita. Asking them to return to a brothel is never his favorite thing to do, considering the life they once led, but he gave the job to them so they could save some of the girls the way they once saved themselves.

 

He can’t always save them but sometimes he gets lucky. He finds them in the basement level of the converted warehouse they’ve taken over, sitting in stolen armchairs surrounded on all sides by yet more stolen mirrors and paintings. All the women are there, Galia, Kita, Ashya, Cici, and Emily.

 

Cici is painting careful lines in dark black kohl around Emily’s wide hazel eyes, while Galia is brushing out her long hair in preparation for a Morley style braid. “You’re about that age,” Kita says without inflection, “when men will take an interest in you. You have to make the most of what you’ve gotten, accident of birth or not.” She gestures to her own face, scar pitted and burned - an acid scar given to her at Emily’s age.

 

“I don’t care about men,” Emily says, and when she frowns, Cici pokes her in the forehead. “The ones here are nice enough, but they’re all old.”

 

Kita waves that off. “The ones here are family, Princess,” she explains. “You don’t fuck where you eat.”

 

Daud hisses between his teeth, alarm rising sharp and jagged between his ribs. But Emily only frowns harder, turning her head to look at Kita. “So I should only… with strangers?” she asks, doubtful.

 

“It’s safer that way,” Kita insists. “They’re only going to take what they want from you anyway, at least this way you have some control over it.”

 

Cici puts down the kohl pen and throws an apple core at Kita. “You’re scaring her,” she reprimands. Cici is older than even Daud is, and stress has carved steep lines into the skin of her face. “Ignore Kita,” she advises Emily. “You’ll one day meet someone who turns your head and your heart. When that happens, you’ll know what to do.”

 

Kita tosses the core to one side, and rallies. “You’re being naive, Ci, she has to be prepared for what men will want of her!”

 

Sensing the argument brewing and seeing Emily as it’s only casualty, Daud steps into the room. “Enough, Kita.”

 

She subsides, crossing her arms over her chest. “The girl is going to get herself in trouble one day and you’re all going to blame me for not preparing her,” she growls. She vanishes a second later, the void fluttering around her in jagged purple pulses.

 

“Might I have the room?” Daud asks the others, who scatter quickly. Emily sits on the table, one eye lined perfectly in black, the other damp with frustrated tears. “I think we need to have a conversation, Princess,” Daud says quietly, stepping into the room and joining her.

 

Emily’s expression darkens. “I’m not stupid, Daud,” she says, sounding angry. “I know what men and women can do together.”

 

He inclines his head. “I know you do,” he placates gently. “You’re neither an idiot, nor are you deaf and blind. This isn’t about sex, this is about what Kita was talking about.” She frowns harder at him, but slides off the table to join him at the divan. “Kita comes from a brothel, like the one here in Karnaca, but much less… kind. She was born there, and abused terribly. She suffered like no person should have to suffer. I’m telling you this so you understand why she is so insistent, but any details are up to her divulge.” Daud turns on the couch to face Emily outright. “She has learned the hard way how people - not simply men - can be, when they’ve been given too much power and too much drink.”

 

Emily sniffles, wiping a hand over her eyes. “Like the Pendleton twins,” she pointed out, voice cracking right down the middle.

 

“Yes,” Daud answers seriously. “This is not a conversation I have lightly, Princess,” he says slowly. “I’m a private person by nature and our relationship has never been what one might call easy.”

 

She nods, scooting forward on the divan so her knee touches his. “I won’t tell,” she promises.

 

Choosing his words carefully, Daud says, “Someday there may come a time where someone, male or female, makes your heart jump. You’ll think on them, daily. Hourly. If they return your regard, then you will grow, and learn, and explore together. But there may be someone who thinks on you, and you don’t think on them.” He reaches out and touches her chin, raising it so their eyes meet. “Emily,” he says, using her name to impress upon her the importance of their conversation. “If ever there is a person who you feel threatened by, you must come to me immediately.”

 

“Threatened by?” Emily asks, with childish innocence.

 

Daud nods, fingers still touching her chin very gently. “Yes,” he answers. “Someone who thinks on you and tries to take what isn’t on offer.”

 

The color drains from her face briefly before she flushes. “What if I think on them?” she asks. “And it _is_ on offer?”

 

“You’re old enough to make your own decisions, Princess,” Daud says without a hint of regret. “If you think on them, and you want all they have to offer, then as far as I’m concerned, you’re both consenting adults and it’s none of my business.” He levels a look at her. “Which means I don’t want to see or hear it. Ever.”

 

Emily grins, looking mischievous. “Daud, do you think on anyone?” she asks, just when he thinks he’s going to escape the conversation unscathed.

 

“No,” he says honestly. “I’ve not thought on anyone for a long time.”

 

She purses her lips, clearly not liking his answer. “But you’ve never gone out for the Fugue, or been with anyone special to you.”

 

He blinks. “I’m not sure I’ll like the reason you know that, Princess,” he says, instead of confirming her suspicions.

 

Emily only shrugs. “It pays to watch, sometimes,” she says, a direct quote from Rulfio. “Did someone take from you what wasn’t on offer?”

 

Daud resists the urge to slap a hand across his own face. “No,” he says instant and clear. “I don’t offer, and I don’t take what is. I have little interest in it.”

 

“Not even if you love them?” Emily asks, and he must have gone soft, twenty years ago he’d have killed any novice asking these sort of questions.

 

“Never known love,” Daud answers gently. “Not any kind that I remember, anyway. My point,” he says, cutting Emily off before she can ask any more awkward questions, “is that you don’t ever have to give what you’re not willing to, and anyone who tries will answer to me.”

 

She blinks up at him, guileless and unafraid. “You don’t kill anymore,” she says, almost a question.

 

Daud runs his fingers through her hair, once, to tuck it behind her ear. “Anyone who hurts you is fair game, Emily,” he says quietly.

 

With a quiet sound that might have been a sob, Emily vaults forward and slides directly into his lap, wrapping her arms around him tightly. It’s been a long time since anyone hugged him, and Daud is briefly alarmed and can’t figure out what to do with his hands. Emily just hangs on, fine tremors running through her and he wraps one arm around her waist, the other against her spine.

 

Eventually she pulls back, looking down from her perch on his lap. The kohl around her eye has run, smearing across her cheek. “Thank you,” she says, and slips off the divan to stand in front of him. “I… I know you killed mother. I still remember that day. But I also remember that you refused to give me up and it’s because of me that we had to come here and you had to leave your home behind. And my father… Corvo is dead, and I never got to say goodbye.”

 

“Our relationship hasn’t been an easy one, no,” Daud agrees, and leans his elbows on his knees. “I regret your mother. I regret that Attano died in prison. It’s the least I can give them to care for you now.”

 

She nods, and scrubs away some the kohl on her cheek with one hand. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I wasn’t very nice to you when we got here. I’ll be careful, out in Karnaca… I promise.” She hesitates and then looks away. “Can I ask you one more question? It’s impertinent. Again.”

 

Daud snorts. “Fine,” he says. “Go ahead.”

 

“How did you know?” Emily asks. “That you didn’t… want what people put on offer, or… that you didn’t want to offer yourself?”

 

His mouth pinches involuntarily. “Where I grew up, offering or getting offers was normal. Everyone took what they could, gave nothing back, and it was easy, without complication. So I took an offer, because it was there and… I felt nothing. It was… fine. There was no spark, nothing special, no rush of emotion. I was young, untried, inexperienced so I thought I’d simply done it wrong. So I took another offer, a different offer, and it was the same. There was nothing.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Emily says when he pauses. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

 

“I thought,” he says, overriding her apologies, “that there was something wrong with me, that I was broken in some fundamental way. I went to a witch, and she crafted me a charm to help me find pleasure in the act. It was like being possessed. It was worse than the emptiness I felt on my own. So I was done with offers, and would have no more of it.” He looks her in the eye. “If you accept an offer and you feel nothing, you’re not broken. If you accept an offer from a man and dislike it, you’re not broken. If you accept an offer from a woman and decide that’s where your heart lies, _you are not broken_. You’ll come to me if you’re confused, or hurt, or if you need to talk about it. Clear?”

 

Emily just hugs him again.

 

“Alright, alright, enough with the hugs,” Daud says, peeling her off him. “Go, have fun. We won’t have another job meeting for a few days. Go explore or bother Thomas. Get.”

 

She flashes him a wide smile and scampers up the stairs on silent feet.

 

*

 

Several hours of meetings with potential jobs later, Daud is ready to simply collapse in bed. He’d usually send Thomas out to meet with employers, but this last one had insisted Daud conduct the meetings himself. He skips the group dinner, heading straight up to his room on the top floor, reaching for his key.

 

His hand closes on empty air.

 

Surprised, Daud checks the other side of his belt, and finds nothing there either. Both his pockets are empty, and his coat turns up nothing too. “What the…?” He wonders for a minute if he left it in his desk down on the main floor and he turns, ready to field questions and trudge back down towards his men.

 

He nearly runs into Emily, sitting on a low table just inside the doorway of the stairwell. Swinging around her finger is a familiar bronze key. “So about that Bond?” Emily asks archly.

 

Daud sighs. “Damn it,” he mutters. “Fine. You win. Give me back my key.”

 

Emily beams at him, hopping off the table and holding out the key. “If you’re wondering,” she says, “it was when I hugged you the second time on the couch. I thought you’d have noticed sooner, but I also thought this was nice and dramatic.”

 

He ruffles her hair, messing it up from the bun she’s put it up in. “Down you get,” he prompts. “This sort of thing is done with witnesses.”

 

She links her arm with his and together they walk down the stairs into the main room where the whalers congregate for dinner and drinks. “Hey boss,” Jacobi greets when they walk through the door. “Thought you weren’t joining us.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Daud says dryly. “But Emily has to show Thomas something.” Thomas’ blond head pokes around Jenkins’ bulk, looking baffled.

 

Emily holds up the key.

 

The room goes silent. There is no sound for the span of five full seconds that Daud counts out in his head before a roar of congratulations spills over the room and those closest to Emily scramble to envelope her in a hug.

 

While she’s distracted by Galia and Kent lifting her into their arms, Daud reaches out his power and touches the back of her hand with it.

 

He feels their connection catch, strain and settle before Emily even manages to turn around and look at him. He’s dragged into the group hug a second later by Jacobi who wraps his Void pull around Daud’s waist and forces him to stumble closer.

 

There are worse ways to spend an evening, he muses, extricating himself. Even after the long and confusing day he’s had. “Alright, settle down,” he says sharply, but without rancor. “While we’re all together, I’ve gotten some news about a job.” He can see Thomas frown out of the corner of his eye and shrugs apologetically. “This is a big one,” he says, unconsciously repeating himself from the day that Burrows had come to him with the assassination of Empress Kaldwin.

 

“How big?” Thomas asks, understandably wary.

 

Daud nods to him. “Big,” he answers. “I got a message from Duke Theodanis Abele himself.” The room goes quiet again.

 

In his periphery, he can see Emily’s head tilt to one side. “I remember him,” she says in the silence. “He was a kind man, prone to rambling on but he always fed me cookies when mother went to visit him.”

 

If possible, the room grows even more quiet at that. Emily never offers tidbits of her life before her time with them. Especially not tidbits that contain the word ‘mother’. “Did you answer him?” Thomas asks.

 

“I did. He asked specifically for me, and only me. He’s offered our entire company a job. With his encroaching dotage, Theodanis fears for his country and his people. He doesn’t believe that his son, Luca, is fit for the Duchy, but has no proof for his feelings. He’s aware that it could turn out to be nothing, that investigating him may turn up nothing. He’s willing to pay either way.”

 

Thomas frowns, looking thoughtful. “We can’t be everywhere, not without masks,” he says, chewing on his lip. “We might have to contract out. There simply aren’t enough of us ready for nonstop fieldwork like that.”

 

Daud nods. “Yes, I mentioned that. Theodanis had a few suggestions. He said there’s a man who lives near Batista Square, someone who can make surprising things happen. He might be a fraud, or a poisoner with good press, but he might also be like us, and willing to help.”

 

He can see the excitement sweep over his men, Emily included, at the prospect of meeting someone else with the Outsider’s Mark. “What was his name?” Thomas asks, clearly already thinking ahead and planning on a meeting.

 

“I don’t know,” Daud answers. “Only that the locals call him the Crow King.” He shrugs. "Whatever else he might be, he's supposed to help. We'll seek him out tomorrow." 

 

*tbc

 


	4. 4. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corvo pulls the door open with a thought, standing in the middle of his workshop, standing just ever so slightly canted sideways. “You must be the Crow King,” the man says with a low, gravel tone that strikes Corvo right in the solar plexus._
> 
>  
> 
> _He enters the shop with three others, all wearing kerchiefs over their faces. The dust had been thick that morning, and they’d clearly run afoul of a dust storm at the edge of the district. “I am,” Corvo answers, no longer feeling awkward over his own mask. “They call me Old Crow, or simply Crow. King is not a title even I aspire to.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a few days to post this, but then I realized I've already started Chapter 9 so clearly I have some leeway here. 
> 
> For Dani, my queen <3 
> 
> Featuring Paolo, the Howler with a heart, and more secrets and mystery than you can shake a stick at. Hold on to your butts.
> 
> As ever, I can be found at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs!

 

“ _There is corruption here, and greed,_ ” the Crow tells him cautiously, and Corvo rolls his eyes. Irritably, the Crow pecks his shoulder, fluffing up her feathers and hopping to the small perch by the window.

 

He turns his attention from the Crow and her penchant for stating the obvious and carefully pours the alcohol into the pot on his stove unit. The bones in it need to bleach the rest of the way before he can start carving.

 

The Crow screams and Corvo turns his Void gaze to the door. “Hello Theodanis,” he says, and lets the door swing open.

 

The Duke of Serkonos looks discomfited, fidgeting and giving the Crow a wide berth. “I have a favor to ask,” the Duke says, taking the free stool by Corvo’s stove. “It’s a rather large favor.”

 

Corvo covers the pot, edging the heat up with a finger before turning his total attention to Theodanis. “Bold of you,” he says, amused. “What’s the favor?”

 

“There’s a man here in Karnaca who has grown in reputation. They call him the Angel. He and his men have taken up something of a security company. The madame at the Bordello speaks highly of him and several other noble families have utilized his skills.” Corvo raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the wooden counter.

 

“He sounds like a prince among men,” he says dryly. “What’s the favor, Theodanis?”

 

Theodanis sighs, looking over at the Crow sitting at the window. “I’ve asked him to look into Luca. I fear that the boy is too destructive for Karnaca, and I am old, Master Crow. Getting older by the day, and I can feel my time as Duke grows short. Luca will drive Serkonos into the ground.” Privately, Corvo agrees, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve sent him to seek you out,” Theodanis says.

 

Corvo’s stares at him. The Crow squawks angrily, flapping her wings. “ _There is something about this,_ ” she screams with Jessamine’s voice. _“They are sick with treachery, from within and from without! Death follows them!”_

 

Theodanis flinches as the Crow flaps her wings and shrieks, forcing Corvo to pick her up, stroking a soothing hand over her wings. “Hush,” he says gently, and places her on his shoulder. “Seek me out,” Corvo repeats, returning to his position against the counter. “Why?”

 

Some of the fear fades from Theodanis’ eyes as he levels Corvo with an amused look. “The Abbey has little hold here, Master Crow. I know what you are and I know who you control. The crows in this city answer to none but you. And they, with the help of the Angel of Karnaca, will find the answers I seek.”

 

Corvo narrows his eyes. “I work alone,” he says.

 

“I know,” Theodanis responds. “I’m hoping you’ll loosen that ironclad rule as a favor to me.”

 

“It seems,” Corvo says slowly, moving the Crow off his shoulder to step closer to Theodanis. “That I have very little choice in the matter.”

 

Theodanis shrugs one shoulder, looking unconcerned at the implied threat. “If you didn’t want to be found, Master Crow, you wouldn’t be and it’s pointless to pretend otherwise.” He looks up into Corvo’s face, recognition sparkling through his eyes. “That’s become very clear, has it not, Corvo?”

 

Corvo’s heart and his breath catches. No one has called him by his name in five years, not since leaving Samuel, Cecilia and Lydia behind in Dunwall. He has changed since then, he would wager that Samuel could walk up to him in the street and never see the man who stumbled out of the water by the Hound Pits. “How’d you guess?” he asks.

 

“Your eyes,” Theodanis answers. He gestures to Corvo’s frame, and Corvo can take his meaning easily. He’d never regained the muscle he’d lost from his six months in Coldridge, instead building a lean, wiry strength that made him look even slimmer when he was wrapped head to toe in black leather and cloth. His left arm was covered shoulder to fingertip, to hide his Mark from prying eyes, while his right was entirely bare and covered in dark, thick tattoos.

 

He’d done everything in his power to erase Corvo Attano from his form and features. “My eyes,” he repeats, running a hand through his long hair. “I suppose that’s fair. So this is your bargain? I must help this Angel or you’ll expose me?”

 

Theodanis’ mouth twists, and he shakes his head. “What? No, of course not. I am old, Corvo, but my memory is as good today as it was ten years ago. We were friendly once, I wish to keep the spirit of that friendship alive.”

 

Corvo sighs. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll work with this Angel.” He sweeps an eye across Theodanis’ form, seeing the exhaustion that weighs him down. “You’ve not been sleeping,” he says. “Here.” Unlocking a metal crate from under the counter, Corvo pulls out a bone charm, made with whale and delicate bird bones, it glows a little in the sunlight spilling through the window. “It will ease your dreams.”

 

Theodanis takes the charm, tucking it away into his jacket. “That would have given you away too,” he says. “Corvo Attano was always too kind for his own good.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Corvo turns away from the Duke. “When should I expect your Angel?” he asks, lifting the cover from the boiling alcohol and wrinkling his nose at the smell.

 

“Soon, I think. You may want to keep a few more of your crows around, just in case.”

 

There’s wisdom in that. If someone as talked about as this Angel is comes calling, he’ll want to know when, where and how close he comes before Corvo will be ready to deal with him. Watching Theodanis closely, Corvo squeezes his left hand, and the Mark flares briefly gold before there’s a ruckus outside of crows flying around and calling out to him. “Go on,” he instructs. “Keep an eye out for someone referred to as the Angel of Karnaca. Anyone coming close to here, report back.”

 

The sound fades with a few more cries and Corvo raises a challenging eyebrow at Theodanis. For his part, he seems relaxed against the stool, just watching. “I suppose this is how you escaped Coldridge?”

 

Corvo nods once. “With… After they died, there was nothing holding me to Dunwall. Let Burrows drag it to the ground.” His mouth twists into a sneer. “And now this long lost sister? I'm glad to be done with politics.”

 

Theodanis sighs. “The plague continues to be an issue, Corvo. Even you must see that.”

 

“I'm a witch, not a miracle worker,” Corvo snaps. “The best I can do is protect the ships who come from there and return to us. I can't cure the rat plague. I can only delay it's coming.”

 

“It's enough to know you're alive, old friend,” Theodanis says gently. “Let me know what you find.”

 

Corvo nods and watches him exit the small building that he'd claimed as his own on the edge of Howler territory. He glances up, eyes catching on a ledge several feet above his head and Blinks up to where he'd made a bedroom. It's a spartan affair, with a low to the ground bed and a small Shrine beside it. The only way to reach it is with magic, and it's one of two places that he feels safest.

 

The Angel of Karnaca.

 

“Well,” he says to the shrine, eyes still closed. “I'm certain this is going to be very fascinating.”

 

There's mocking laughter on the wind but Corvo is used to the Outsiders derision.

 

*

 

“ _Crow_! Call your bird off me!” Paolo stomps into the house, Corvo’s Crow sitting proudly on the top of his head. Snorting, all he can do is laugh as Paolo flaps his arms trying to dislodge the Crow. “Stop laughing and get it off!” Paolo says, arms akimbo.

 

Taking pity on the Howler, Corvo whistles sharply and the Crow immediately hops from Paolo’s head to her perch by the window. “Better?” Corvo asks, amused.

 

“Yes, thank you.” Paolo sits in the chair closest to the door and the birds circling overhead tell Corvo that several of his men linger in the alley. “Your creature was insistent,” he says, turning a scowl onto the Crow. “What's so important?”

 

Corvo waves away the Crow. “Go spy,” he says to her, offhand and waves Paolo further into the house he’d taken over. Above them is his bedroom, safe from prying eyes, but behind them is his sitting room, and the bone charms in the doorway keep spies from overhearing. “There’s something coming,” he says once Paolo has settled into a chair. “We’ve all heard the rumors from Gristol. The Rat Plague is growing in infamy.”

 

Paolo’s lips twist into a grimace. “Yes, I’ve heard them speaking about it, out on the docks. The rats grow like weeds in an untamed garden.” He taps his chest where one of Corvo’s bone charms has been sewed into the lining of his vest. “That is why you create these, no? To save some from the black death?”

 

“That’s one reason. I make others. But I’m going to have to up the ante. The whales are retreating further and further from Gristol, and our streets are already running red with blood. We’re going to have to figure out what side of this conflict we’re on.” Corvo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And,” he adds, in the express interest of honesty, “Duke Theodanis Abele came to visit me yesterday.”

 

Slowly, Paolo sits up. “You’re maybe thinking of turning me in, friend?” he asks, with a dangerous lilt to his voice.

 

Corvo shoots him a scornful look. “No, don’t be stupid.” Paolo relaxes by degrees and Corvo drops into the seat across from him. “Theodanis wants me to take a more active role in the future of Karnaca,” he settles on.

 

Paolo snorts. “You’re like me, old Crow, you work best alone.”

 

Waving that off, Corvo scrubs a hand through his hair, upsetting the crow feather braided in and sending splinters of the void off into the air. “That’s true, but Theodanis and I go very far back,” Corvo says. “If it means making more bone charms, then I will. But I think that at this point, we’ve gone past that. Sooner or later, a ship from Dunwall is going to make its way here with the plague in it’s belly and no amount of bone charms are going to save lives.”

 

“How far back?” Paolo wonders suspiciously.

 

Amused despite himself, Corvo shakes his head. “That _would_ be the part you focus on. I knew him when I was a boy, before I left Karnaca.”

 

“Mm,” Paolo says, eyes focused on Corvo’s face. “So what do you want me to do, my friend?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat.

 

“I want you to start gathering resources. I know you have infiltrators inside the Guards at Addermire Institute. Start working on them to get Dr. Hypatia to turn her interests towards the Rat Plague.”

 

Paolo wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know why I’m always surprised when you know these things, old Crow.”

 

Corvo tilts his mouth up in a half smile. “Paolo, haven’t you realized by now? I know everything.”

 

“That is being a terrifying thought,” Paolo mutters. “And me, what would you like me to do?”

 

Chewing his lip, Corvo thinks for a second. “Start sending out contacts to other people, see if there’s anyone in the Academy of Natural Philosophy who is willing to come to Karnaca. Don’t worry about space, if there’s anyone who answers the call, then I’ll strong arm Theodanis into giving up part of his palace.”

 

Paolo nods, eyes sharp and accessing. “Why do you care so much about a plague that doesn’t even exist here yet?” he asks, more curious than demanding.

 

Shooting him a dry glance, Corvo says, without answering, “I’d have thought you’d be more concerned, considering you can turn into a swarm of rats, Paolo.”  


He hisses through his teeth, drawing backwards. “Do not speak of it!” he whispers harshly.

 

Slightly surprised - a novel feeling, he’s not often surprised anymore - Corvo tilts his head to the side. “Paolo, you must realize that the crows don’t answer me because I feed them,” he says, which is as much of an admission as he’ll get.

 

Paolo scowls at him. “Obviously,” he drawls, sounding annoyed. “Still, why worry now?”

 

Corvo shrugs one shoulder. “That’s what I do,” he says. “Do you need anything, or do your Howlers?”

 

“No,” Paolo says after a second, thinking it over. “Not for now. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

 

He gives half a thought on asking if Paolo has ever heard of this Angel of Karnaca, but lets the notion go as Paolo leaves. It wouldn’t do to fracture his reputation for knowing everything if he asks about someone he should probably already know about.

 

That’s the primary source of his concern. Corvo has crows all over the city, watching the comings and goes of whales, ships, and nobles but not a single whisper of information has ever crossed his crows or his mind about this security company run by an Angel.

 

Whatever might be protecting them might also be what protects Paolo from his crows eyes. He’ll just have to wait and see for himself.

 

*

 

The crows scream into his mind early the next morning as he sits in the sun on the roof of his stolen home. There are bones scattered about him, and he’s dropped at least two carving tools into the gutter before he manages to shove the crows out of his head. _Magic_! They all insist, rising out of the city and throwing themselves towards him.

 

So he’d been right - whatever protects the Angel and his people from Corvo’s eyes is Outsider given.

 

That’s interesting; he’s never known more than two people with a Mark to occupy the same place and Paolo’s is only borrowed. Corvo gathers up his tools and slips into the house, murmuring a quick and quiet spell for truth. He smears the salt and oil over the door frame, with one efficient hand.

 

With a quick clenched fist he dismisses the crows, sending them off to wherever they hide when he doesn’t use them. The only one who stays is the one he considers his, the one he calls Jess when they’re alone. She sits on the perch, eyes shining purple in the light and she lets out a hollow cry as soon as Corvo has put away all things heretical. Theodanis’ words echo in his head and Corvo reaches over his work table to grab the crow’s skull mask hanging there. Kirin Jindosh had given it to him, irony heavy in his gaze.

 

If Corvo puts his hood up, the mask covers his eyes, nose and most of his cheekbones. It wouldn’t do to be recognized twice.

 

“ _There is something about this one… a memory? From before?”_ the Crow says and Corvo has to shake off an eerie coldness that accompanies the words.

 

“Enough,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over her wings. “Don’t strain yourself.”

 

“ _I am sorry, my love_ ,” she whispers, pressing into his palm. “ _I still cannot remember.”_

 

He’s about to answer her when there’s a hollow boom against the door. Corvo waves a hand over his face, looking through the door and seeing several people standing on the step. A tall, broad shouldered man, with several other people behind him.

 

Corvo pulls the door open with a thought, standing in the middle of his workshop, standing just ever so slightly canted sideways. “You must be the Crow King,” the man says with a low, gravel tone that strikes Corvo right in the solar plexus.

 

He enters the shop with three others, all wearing kerchiefs over their faces. The dust had been thick that morning, and they’d clearly run afoul of a dust storm at the edge of the district. “I am,” Corvo answers, no longer feeling awkward over his own mask. “They call me Old Crow, or simply Crow. King is not a title even I aspire to.”

 

Dryly the man looks him over and then bows, a sweeping motion that seems familiar. “Well they call me Angel but I hate the title. You may call me Daud.”

 

Corvo opens his mouth to answer when his Crow screams a challenge, lifting off from the perch and diving at Daud’s head, talons out and beak upraised. For a brief second, Corvo is legitimately dumbfounded. He’s never seen his Crow, his Jess, act like this before.

 

Daud flinches back, but the Crow scores a hit across his forehead. He reaches out one hand, and time slows to a stop around them. His Crow is frozen mid-flight and Corvo knows that Mark on the back of this Daud’s hand. He steps around the bird and plucks it from the air, smoothing down the feathers and tucking it close, using his own Power to end the spell.

 

“Enough,” he barks, when the Crow begins to struggle.

 

“ _They are assassins!_ ” the Crow screams. _“This much I know! Why have you brought him here? Am I supposed to forgive him what he did?”_

 

Corvo ignores the screams, stepping up to the window and tossing the Crow out into the air. “No,” he commands sharply. “You can come back when you’ve gone rational again. Enough is enough.” He closes the window. “I apologize,” he says formally, imitating Daud’s bow.  

 

“That’s a new one, boss. Attacked by a killer bird,” one of Daud’s men jests, ducking a swat from another member of their company.

 

Corvo watches them bicker in amusement. “She’s never reacted that way before,” he says. “I really do apologize. Setting my companion on you was not my intention for this meeting.” He pushes open the door to the living space behind the workshop. “Be welcome,” he adds, and waves them into the room.

 

Daud goes easily, his three protectors following closely behind. “Thank you,” he says, and Corvo is beginning to feel like this is a dance, where they make all the right steps, or risk alienating each other completely. “As I said, I am Daud, and with me are my three closest companions, Thomas, Cici, and Princess.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Princess?”

 

Reaching over and ruffling the girl’s hair, Daud smirks. “She’s the littlest and youngest of my Apprentices,” he answers, ignoring her outraged sound and the way she fixes her hair.

 

Corvo sits in one of the chairs, waving Daud into one. “So,” he says, once the apprentices have found their own places. “Theodanis tells me you require information.”

 

Daud pauses, face going still. “Theodanis came to you?”

 

“Yes,” Corvo answers instantly. “We are old friends, in a way. He brought his concerns about Luca to me several weeks ago. Since Luca is his only heir, he’s been hesitant to act. He could have asked me to take the entire issue but…” Corvo flexes his left hand obviously. “There are some things a Duke can’t admit to knowing about,” he says.

 

“I know the feeling,” Daud says dryly. “My mother always told me never to make an enemy of a witch.”

 

Corvo smiles. “Sound advice.”

 

Daud looks a bit discomfited by his expression which was, more or less, the point. Crows are carrion animals and Corvo has learned to let it show in his smile. But Daud isn’t like the others in Karnaca, he rallies without hesitance, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “My thought is this - my men can cover the ground between the Palace, and wherever Luca Abele goes within the city, or even if he leaves the city. Your crows can cover the Palace proper, people are used to birds, but my men are more obvious.”

 

It’s a good plan, and one very similar to Corvo’s own. “I agree,” Corvo says. “I can gather a murder of Crows… mm.. Thirty strong, in a matter of seconds. They cannot communicate with you as they can with me, but they will know to listen to any orders your men may give.”

 

Daud nods. “I already have men in place.”

 

“Then let us adjourn to the roof,” Corvo says. This will be the test of their working relationship. Daud may have the Outsider’s favor, but that has rarely meant he won’t flinch from Corvo’s unique power. Paolo is the only one who has never flinched, not even in the face of Corvo’s occasionally violent magic.

 

It is time to see if Daud is made of sterner stuff.

 

Instead of Blinking up to the attic and using the trapdoor, Corvo pulls down the lever half hidden by his shelves and climbs the stairs that drop down from the ceiling. He can hear the patter of feet behind him, knowing that all four of his guests are following close behind.

 

His Crow is waiting for him by the doorway, feathers fluffed in divine irritation. “Not a word,” he cautions her. The Crow’s silence is telling, and she fairly screams of disapproval.

 

Once all four of them are on the roof, Corvo nudges the door closed and stands on the flattest bit. “You may want to hide anything shiny, for now,” he cautions, because the last time he’d summoned crows anywhere near Paolo, the Howler hadn’t spoken to him for three weeks after losing a necklace to his unruly horde.

 

He waits until everyone has settled, and the world is silent. Corvo clenches his left hand, pulling a shriek from the wind. There is nothing for a long moment before the crows descend. From all over Karnaca, crows wing their way towards Corvo, flying around him in a cyclone of void and feathers. They cry out to him, voices of the dead and damned, mothers begging for their lives, miners dying in the earth, children who were too young to know any better.

 

His Crow settles on his shoulder, keeping Jessamine’s voice silent. Five years, and he has never heard Emily’s screams inside his magic.

 

As the crows spin out and settle over the roof, Corvo runs a finger over his Crow’s beak, a silent apology. “This is Daud,” he tells his crows. “We’ve entered into a partnership, you will report to him as you would report to me. Find nests near the Palace, find the one they call Luca. Everything he does, everything he will do, you will tell me.”

 

The crows all caw and screech in answer. “ _Such power! If only they would do something other than death,”_ they cry as one voice. “ _A haze surrounds them - we cannot see through it!_ ”

 

Corvo rubs his temple with two fingers. “Luca Abele. Focus.”

 

With shrieking laughter, the crows take off, swirling around him like a goodbye before disappearing into the distance, heading towards the palace. “That was amazing!” the one Daud calls Princess says, her eyes sparkling a dark brown behind her kerchief. “I’ve never seen crows do that before! Do they talk to you? Like, in words? Or do you just see memories of what they’ve seen?”

 

“Um,” Corvo says, feeling wrongfooted. “They talk to me,” he answers when her eyes don’t leave his. “In words. But I can see through their eyes if I wish it.”

 

Even under the black fabric, he can tell she’s grinning. “With _words_? What do they sound like?!”

 

“The speak to me with the voices of the dead,” Corvo answers, keeping his tone even. “This one,” he rubs his fingers over his Crow’s beak, and she cuddles closer to his neck. “This one speaks with the voice I loved above all others.”

 

“Oh,” breathes Princess, looking stricken. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mister Crow.”

 

Corvo’s lips tug upward in an unwilling smile. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. In this, at least I’m not alone.” He turns to Daud who is studying him with open, frank appraisal. “If the crows find anything, they’ll either lead your men to whatever they want you to see, or they’ll find me, and I’ll find you. Where are you located?”

 

“Aventa Quarter,” Daud answers. “Converted old Jindosh warehouse right on the waterfront.”

 

He presses his palms together and bows a little. “Then happy hunting, Master Daud. I look forward to working with you.” He jostles the Crow on his shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I have a few things to look into, I’ll meet with you in a week with any information I might find.” He waits for Daud’s nod, then launches his Crow into the air.

 

She shrieks in joy. “ _Come to me, my love_!”

 

Corvo joins her. Together, they leave the angels on his roof, and Corvo lets himself fly free, even as they head towards the Howler’s main headquarters.

 

He doesn’t know what to think of his new allies, but he’s certain it won’t be boring.

 

*tbc


	5. 5. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
> Daud frowns at him. “You talk to crows,” he says.
> 
>  
> 
> _“They talk to me,” the Crow King corrects, lips turning down in a frown. “I simply understand them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Dani, my queen <3
> 
> As ever I can be found on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs!

The Crow King is nothing like Daud expects. He’s met witches before, several of them; they all follow the same lines. His mother - while not a witch herself - had ran in those circles for years. The women who came to visit them in the dead of night were grey of skin, with dark black ink over their eyes. Their clothing was either in tatters or fitted to look more expensive than they were.

 

Most of them, as Daud remembers it, were completely, utterly, mad.

 

The Crow fits none of those preconceptions. He’s tanned, from working in the sun of Serkonos. His hair is long, down to his shoulders and small chunks are braided with crow feathers that catch of the Void. He looks odd, but not insane, and Daud has no idea what to make of it.

 

He’d gone to the witch because the Duke had instructed him to do so, assuming, possibly correctly, that watching his son would be a full time job. He’d not expected a competent wielder of magic.

 

“Two coin for your thoughts?” Thomas asks, settling into the seat beside Daud.

 

“The Crow King is… odd,” Daud says at once.

 

Thomas snorts, nodding. “That’s a bit of an understatement, sir. But he seems…” Thomas trails off, looking thoughtful. “He seems unlike the other witches we’ve come across.”

 

“That is certainly true,” Daud says dryly. “Considering he is not a blackened mess.”

 

Inclining his head, Thomas agrees. “He hides his face,” he points out. “But then, so did we. He doesn’t seem harmless, as such. More that he’s willing to help but also shouldn’t be trifled. The damage he could do with a flock of crows thirty strong is innumerable.”

 

“It’s called a murder, Thomas,” Daud says, amused.

 

Thomas rolls his eyes. “That’s far too dramatic for simple conversation.” He sighs. “I’m worried, boss.”

 

Daud tilts his head to the side, giving his second in command his full attention. “Why?” he wonders, making a concentrated effort to sound gentle.

 

Looking down at his hands, Thomas finally murmurs, “the last time someone in power vied for our attention, the Empress died.”

 

That strikes Daud low in the chest like a dull knife. He’d been fighting sleep, fearing dreams of the day he’d taken Jessamine’s life. Theodanis is certainly no Hiram Burrows, but the parallels do exist. “Yes,” Daud says quietly. “There’s no escaping her shadow.”

 

Thomas shakes his head. “No, there really isn’t. Emily adapted, but I don’t think the rest of us did.” There’s another beat of silence before Thomas clears his throat. “So the Crow, you think he’ll hold up his end of the bargain?”

 

Daud looks over at the window, and smirks. “Well yes, I do,” he says, and gestures.

 

Sitting on the sill, staring at them with one Void purple eye is a small crow. Once it’s been noticed, it shrieks at them, hopping in place. Remembering the witches words, Daud gets up and looks out the window, leaning over the sill when the crow flies to the nearest roof. “Think it’s safe to follow?” Thomas asks.

 

He shrugs and tranverses down to where the crow landed. As soon as the crow sees him touch down, it’s off again, flying over the roofs of the Aventa quarter. They make their way from the Lower district to the higher district until the crow flies through a window overlooking the Jindosh mansion.

 

In the room are a cadre of other crows, and their King, crouched on a stool, strange wooden mask covering half his face as he looks out the opposite window. When Daud reappears in the middle of the room, the Crow King turns to look at him, face completely blank before his lips, thin and chapped, curl upward in a small smile. “I see they found you, then.”

 

Daud snorts quietly, joining the Crow King at the window. “They were hard to ignore.”

 

The Crow King laughs, shoulders shaking though the sound is rusty and quiet. “Trust me, I’m well aware.” He tilts his head, the beak of the wooden bird mask pointing out of the window. “What do you see, down there?” he asks, and shoos away any interfering crows.

 

Glancing over at the mansion, Daud shrugs one shoulder. “An eyesore,” he answers honestly.

 

Crow laughs again, shaking his head. “No,” he corrects. “Watch close.”

 

Daud takes out his spyglass, aiming along the same lines that the Crow points. There are surplus of grand guard milling about the area, all of them in dark red jackets with gold trim. “That seems an awful lot of muscle for one relatively remote house,” Daud comments.

 

“Mm,” Crow agrees, and makes a broad gesture. One of his many creatures lands on his fist. “Go on,” he prompts.

  
The Crow’s Mark glows purple, and the crow sitting on it opens it’s beak. Daud flinches in preparation for a loud caw or screech, but instead, the Crow’s voice comes out of the bird. “Six men bring a man to the mansion. He is unconscious, in chains. They aren’t care with him, letting his head hit every wall or stone or pillar as they drag him from the carriage row up to the house. He is not a small man, dressed in green and with a beard. We recognize this man - he is Anton Sokolov.”

 

“What?!” Daud hisses, jerking back in surprise.

 

The crow doesn’t stop, speaking over him. “Behind him is another familiar figure. Jindosh is speaking with him, quick, rapid Serkonan, but we speak it too. He wants to break Sokolov’s mind, take from him his genius. Use it, maybe. Steal it, definitely.”

 

Daud leans forward. “Who is he speaking to, Crow?”

 

The crow leaps off its King’s fist, and Daud is mask to face with the King himself. “It’s Luca Abele,” he says, voice hoarse.

 

“How long ago?” Daud snaps.

 

“An hour, maybe more.” The Crow leans a bit out of the window to check the sun’s position. “Yes. An hour, few minutes over.”

 

Daud holds his left hand out, Mark aglow, unsurprised when Thomas, Jacobi, Jenkins and Galia appear. “Boss?” Thomas asks, eyes on the Crow King.

 

“It seems Kirin Jindosh is part of whatever Luca Abele is planning. They’ve kidnapped Anton Sokolov,” Daud says without pausing for their adjustment. “Galia, get Princess, she’s going to want to hear about this. The rest of you, get down there, see what you can find out.”

 

Galia disappears, while the other three launch themselves out of various windows as the Crow King watches with undisguised curiosity. “I didn’t realize that our powers would be so… different.”

 

Daud frowns at him. “You talk to crows,” he says.

 

“They talk to me,” the Crow King corrects, lips turning down in a frown. “I simply understand them.”

 

“What else can you do?” Daud watches out of the corner of his eye as his men leap across the roof tops and various trees near Jindosh’s mansion, but most of his attention is on the Crow King.

 

Crow leans back against the wall, still crouched on the stool, but he looks surprisingly at ease. “I can call them, talk to them, order them. See through their eyes, in the moment or relive a past moment. I can see out of a human’s eyes too. Or steal them, if I wish.” His expression turns sly. “For a while, the locals called me Eye-Thief.”

 

“You seem to have recovered from their witticisms,” Daud says dryly. He points, gesturing towards the mansion. “There. Jacobi and Jenkins got in, they know the area well.”

 

The Crow snorts again, lifting up the edge of his mask in order to push his hair out of his eye. Daud can see tan skin and an dark grey eye before it all disappears behind the bird mask. “No peeking, Angel,” he drawls, and turns back towards the window.

 

Daud pulls a face just in time for Emily and Galia to appear in the room with them. “Daud?” Emily asks, her mask firmly over her nose and mouth. “What’s going on?”

 

“It seems Kirin Jindosh has kidnapped Anton Sokolov,” the Crow says, and the sound of cawing drowns out Emily’s gasp. Several crows all alight on the sills of the many windows, laser focused on their master. The Crow King hops down off his stool, stepping neatly by Daud to pick up one of the crows and settle it on his shoulder. “Enough,” he says though no one has spoken since the crows arrival.

 

“Is he talking to them?” Emily asks Daud quietly, slipping around the outside of the room to join him as far from the crows as she can get.

 

Daud manages to nod before the Crow King spins to face them, cloak flaring out like wings. “I have to get back,” he says. “I apparently have guests that require my presence.”

 

“Guests?” Daud asks sharply.

 

The Crow mask turns towards him. “You’re not the only one I have at my fingertips, Angel,” he says. “I have allies everywhere.” His lips quirk up in a wry smile. “Not all of them have wings.” Then, on some unspoken signal, the crow at his shoulder flies off through a window and then the Crow King is gone, the Void sparkling in the sunlight.

 

Emily hooks her fingers around Daud’s wrist. “Sokolov?” she asks, voice urgent.

 

“Jacobi and Jenkins are on it,” Daud answers. “As soon as they come out with him, you’ll be there.”

 

She nods, leaning her arms on the sill, looking out over the mansion. “Do you want to tell him?” Emily asks, gesturing a little towards her face.

 

Daud gazes down at her. “Do you want to?” he asks, though he’s pretty sure of the answer.

 

She hesitates for a long while, preternaturally still as she turns the ideas over in her mind. “Yes,” she finally says, pulling her kerchief off her nose, and letting it dangle around her neck. “Sokolov was one of my teachers from before. He’s a great man - a pompous one - but a great man. I’ve missed him.”

 

“He’ll have to stay with us at the Warehouse,” Daud says, keeping his voice noncommittal.

 

“Sokolov knows how to keep secrets,” Emily says firmly. “He often chose not to, back then, but he knows how.”  


Daud is not naive enough to think that Emily will ever truly forgive him for what he did to her mother, nor is he hopeful enough to think that someday he won’t have to face the consequences of his actions. But he feels a sliver of relief whenever Emily says the words “before” or “back then” when speaking of her time as the daughter of an Empress.

 

Kent is always telling him that healing comes slowly, that it isn’t something that happens overnight. That Emily could accept his Mark spoke volumes of her trust in him, and that is enough for Daud. He could never be forgiven for what he did to Jessamine Kaldwin, but he could at least start to repent for it.

 

“There,” Emily says breathless with excitement.

 

Jacobi appears on the front walk of the mansion, a man draped over his shoulder. A few more transversals, and he’s joined them in the abandoned house, Sokolov unconscious in his arms. “I have to go back for Jenk,” he says, tight with anger and worry. “I need some orders, boss. Jindosh was torturing him - had him strapped to this electrical chair. Jenk took him out, knocked him unconscious but I don’t know what you want us to do with the choffer.”

 

Emily kneels by Sokolov’s side, using her kerchief to wipe away the blood at the corner of his mouth. “Put him in his own chair,” she says, her eyes like chips of glass. “Jindosh wanted Anton for something, and was willing to torture him to get it. Whatever it is, whatever Luca Abele wants, he can’t have it.”

 

Jacobi looks over at Daud, who can’t help the swell of proud fondness for Emily. “You heard her,” Daud says.

 

Emily smiles so brightly that Jacobi laughs a little. “Alright, Princess. We’ll take away his toys.”

 

Her smile widens, if that’s even possible. “Kaldwin justice,” she declares. “If Kirin Jindosh can’t play well with others, then he gets his things taken away.” She shrugs one shoulder. “Mother used to do that, back then.”

 

Wisely deciding not to comment on that, Jacobi disappears again, leaving Daud alone with Emily and the unconscious Sokolov. Daud whistles quietly at her and when she looks up he tosses her his flask of water. Using the fabric still in her hand, Emily dumps some water on it, laying the cold cloth across Sokolov’s forehead. “Come on, old man,” she murmurs.

 

As though waiting for an entrance, Sokolov opens his eyes. “Well,” he drawls out, his voice broken and exhausted. “Now I know I must be dead.”

 

Emily frowns, tilting her head to one side. “You’re not dead, Sokolov,” she says gently.

 

He laughs softly, turning his head to face her and dislodging the cold cloth on his forehead. “Ah, but I must be. Emily Kaldwin died five years ago.”

 

“No,” Emily corrects him, her voice still gentle. “Daud saved me. I left with him. It’s really me, Sokolov. Don’t you remember? The day mother died, I told you your painting of Campbell didn’t really look like him. Corvo…” Her voice breaks slightly at the thought of her father. “Corvo and I played hide and seek together. You laughed at us.”

 

Sokolov stares at her, sitting up slowly. “Emily?” he breathes.

 

She smiles, nodding. “I go by Princess, more often than not,” she says. “No one knows I’m alive, Sokolov. We have to keep it that way, with the things that are happening in Dunwall.”

 

“Yes,” Sokolov drawls, reaching out and touching Emily’s face, the bridge of her nose. “You have your mother’s features.” He glances over at Daud. “I’m surprised at you, old friend. Saving Emily.”

 

Emily raises one eyebrow at the term ‘friend’ but doesn’t ask any questions thankfully. “I’ll take him back to the Warehouse,” she says, when Daud only shrugs in response to Sokolov’s comment.

 

Daud contemplates letting her leave with Sokolov, even though her Mark is relatively new. It’s taken out of his hands though, when Jenkins and Jacobi appear in the room, slightly out of breath. “It’s done,” Jenkins says, and his his face looks as though he’s carved it from stone. “Jindosh’s brilliant mind is no more.”

 

Sokolov sucks in a sharp breath. “You killed him?”

 

“No,” Jenkins says, and Daud makes another note to seek him out in a few days. “I stuck him in that machine he had you in and turned it up to seven. He’s alive, but his brilliance is lost, he will never create again.”  


Daud slips off the sill, and offers a hand to Sokolov. “We should return to the Warehouse. It’s not wise to linger.”

 

Sokolov puts his hands in Daud’s, and all of them transverse away.

 

*

 

It takes three days for Daud to cave and seek out the Crow King again. The man unsettles him, which he’s not used to. He’s gone from Knife to Angel in the span of five years but the Crow, he’s something else entirely.

 

Daud touches down on the roof next to the front door of the house the King has claimed. Void given gaze tells him there are two people within, and he tilts his head to hear better.

 

“--- ecause I’m a _witch_ , Paolo,” the Crow says, sounding disgruntled.

 

The sentence forces Daud to revise his opinion - for the third time - because he’d not realized the Howler leader and the king of Crows were so friendly, and also because he’d pegged the Crow to be Tyvian, or perhaps Gristolian, despite his dark hair and tanned skin. He speaks like a native though, a half glottal stop between the O and L sound of Paolo’s name, that’s all Serkonan dialect.

 

“People say I’m a witch too, old Crow,” Paolo drawls, dragging Daud’s attention back to them.

 

The crow laughs, loud and surprised. “People are idiots,” he says, still chuckling. “You couldn’t be a witch if you tried, my friend.”  


Daud has heard stories of the Howler gang, and knows that most are about it’s leader; Paolo. It takes a brave man to laugh in his face.  Against his will, his estimation of the Crow goes up a few notches. “I still think you are crazy, loco, not right in the head,” Paolo says and in Daud’s gaze, he pushes the Crow back a few steps. “Everyone knows the bonecharms only work because of the _bone_.”

 

The Crow shakes his head. “That makes no sense, Paolo. Think about it, magic originated from Pandyssia, there’s no way the witches of old used whale bone.” Paolo grunts, waving him on. “Therefore, it should be _theoretically_ possible to carve the runes into metal or wood.”   


“Why haven’t you tried?” Paolo challenges him.

 

“I’ve been a little busy trying to keep everyone from dying of the plague, Paolo,” the Crow says dryly. “And helping the Angel with surveillance, if he ever comes down from his perch,” he adds, and the form of the Crow turns to face where Daud is crouching.

 

Sighing, and annoyed, Daud transverses down into the workshop.

 

Paolo is standing in the corner, one hand on his sword, while the Crow, masked as ever, leans one hip against the table in the middle. “Put the sword away, Paolo,” he says, tilting his head toward Daud. “He’s not here to hurt you.”

 

“You have strange friends, master Crow,” Paolo grumbles, but he relaxes, leaning back against the wall.

 

The Crow grins at him, turning to look over his shoulder. “Of course,” he says. “I’m friends with you.”

 

Paolo scoffs but the Crow is already moving back to give Daud his attention. “Sokolov is healing nicely,” Daud offers, figuring it’s safest to treat this like a report, rather than a social visit. “He gave a detailed recounting of his time with Luca Abele, that they ousted him from Dunwall to keep him from curing the plague. Jindosh wanted his mind to create some strange clockwork moving soldier, but Sokolov says he refused to give in.”

 

The Crow nods slowly. “I knew him, once, long ago. If he says he didn’t give in, I’d be inclined to believe him.”

 

Paolo hums under his breath, pushing away from the wall to join them at the table. “Mindy has a few contacts,” he offers. “Found a Natural Philosopher by name of Piero Joplin, he was kicked out of the Academy for…” He makes a wavy hand gesture. “Ehh. No one is really sure. But he was rumored to be experimenting with Sokolov’s health elixir.”

 

“That could be helpful,” the Crow comments. “Paolo, can your Howlers replace the Guards in at the Addermire Institute?”

 

He snorts. “Ask another stupid question, Crow,” he says.

 

“Good.” The Crow taps the beak of his mask, looking thoughtful. “Daud, if you can get some of your men to help Paolo’s, and get Sokolov and Piero to Addermire, then having three minds to tackle the plague will give us more time.”

 

Paolo rubs the bridge of his nose. “Crow, my people, they are not white hats. They don’t do something for nothing.”

 

Daud can’t see the Crow’s eyes, but he gets the distinct impression that he’s rolling them. “Then let me put it this way; if we don’t cure the Plague, where do you think the Overseers are going to set their sights? The reports we’re getting out of Dunwall are frightening on their own. You want the Overseers here, looking into the mysterious Paolo?”

 

“Alright, alright, you have made your point,” Paolo snarls, but he doesn’t look all that angry. “It’s true that Theodanis won’t be around forever, and Luca is a blowhard lickspittle. The point remains, Crow, who will take over from there?”

 

“We’ll.. Figure that out when the time comes,” the Crow sighs.

 

Daud leans over the workshop table, glancing at the large map of Karnaca there. “What are you expecting? That the Grand Guard is in Luca’s pocket rather than Theodanis?”

 

The Crow lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Strangely, that bothers me less than the idea of this new Empress coming and mucking things up. Whoever Delilah Kaldwin is, she’s shaken up the Academy, the Abbey, and every network I’ve seen.”

 

Paolo taps the map gently. “Have you asked your black eyed friend?”

 

Daud manages to stop from sneering in the nick of time as the Crow snorts out another laugh. “No, he’s not one for clarity and asking feels a little like giving up. If he has input, he’ll give it, whether we want him to or not.”

 

Truer words about the Outsider have never been spoken, in Daud’s opinion.

 

He opens his mouth to speak up, but the sound of a familiar transversal fills the room and Emily steps out of the shadows. “Hm,” she says, frowning. “I missed. I wanted to land on the chair.”

 

The Crow turns to face her, lips quirked up in a smile that disappears as soon as he looks at her. The reagent bottle in his hands crashes to the ground in a tinkle of glass and some sweet smelling liquid.

 

Daud sighs to himself, of all times, she’s forgotten her kerchief.

 

“Emily?” he says, voice cracked straight down the middle. “ _Emily_?”

 

Fuck.

 

*tbc


	6. 6. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything becomes clear, a few lies are told and Paolo is done with the drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, Happy Yule. <3 
> 
> As ever I can be found at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs.

Corvo’s fingers go nerveless, his hand spasming on the bottle he holds. Distantly, he can hear glass shattering, in the back of his mind he can be glad he wasn’t holding chloroform. All he can see is the girl standing in front of him, dark hair pulled up into a braid that curled around her head like a crown, with dark brown eyes staring suspiciously up at him.

 

“Emily?” he chokes out, though his throat has gone tight with panic and hope. “ _Emily_?”

 

Her hand, tanned by the Serkonan sun, calloused from hard work, goes for her sword and she brandishes it with strength and grace.

 

She looks just like Jessamine.

 

“How do you know that name?” she demands. “Only Daud calls me Emily, and I’m quite certain Master Crow that he would not tell it to _you_. Who are you, and how do you know me?”

 

Outsider’s _eyes_ , she sounds just like Jessamine too.

 

He blinks, and he can feel the tears spill across his cheeks, hidden only by the bird mask that now seems grotesque where it once seemed practical.

 

Corvo scrambles for his hood, shoving it back and unclasping it from around his neck, reaching under the mask he unclips it and nearly throws it to one side. He doesn’t care that Paolo is there, or Daud, that one or the other may recognize him from whom he once was.

 

All that matters, all that has ever mattered, is that Emily is here. She freezes, staring at him with too wide eyes. “Emily,” Corvo says again, vocabulary entirely reduced to her name, as he sinks to his knees in front of her. “It’s _me_.”

 

Her sword dips dangerously, the point a hairsbreadth from ruining his floor, and her free hand rises slowly to cover her mouth. “Corvo?” she whispers, breathless. “... _Daddy?”_

 

She hasn’t called him daddy since she was six, and they told her she had to keep his true identity a secret. Corvo had always mourned the loss of her sweet voice calling him daddy in the morning when he’d gone to wake her.

 

Now the sound tears his heart from his chest, and he reaches for her. “Emily,” he says, the sound wrenched out of a swollen throat.

 

Emily flies into his arms, gripping him tightly around the neck, her face tucked into his neck. Her shoulders are shaking violently with the force of her sobs and they’re talking over each other, Corvo repeating over and over, ‘You’re alive’ and Emily saying, ‘I thought you were dead’.

 

His Crow slams into the room, screaming. “ _She lives, she lives!_ ” She lands on his shoulder, tucked into the both of them before she slowly turns its head towards where Daud is standing.  “ _You_ ,” she hisses, and Corvo pulls away from Emily to look. _“He killed me! He_ killed _me!”_

 

Emily whines low in her throat when the Crow’s feathers begin to fluff up for battle, and Corvo follows her gaze to find Daud staring down at them, horror twisting his features. “Hello, bodyguard,” Daud murmurs.

 

“Wait!” Emily shrieks, and she Blinks away from Corvo to stand in front of him, between his position and Daud’s. Corvo comes up to his feet, but pauses at her word, face twisted in rage and grief.

 

“Move, Emily,” Corvo says, his voice has dropped to a growled register, echoes of the Void behind it. “Daud has much to answer for.”

 

“Yes,” Emily says, sharp and afraid. “He does. But he also must answer for saving my life.”

 

That makes Corvo pause, staring down at her. Jessamine’s eyes look up from her face and he has to steel himself to avoid collapsing at her feet again. “What do you mean?” he manages to ask, and he knows the Void is too close for him to safely back away from it without consequence.

 

Emily presses her hands into his stomach, the touch grounding him. “He could have given me up to the Pendleton Twins, he could have easily. But Daud made a different choice, Corvo. He chose to keep me safe, he got me out of Dunwall, smuggled me here so that the people who hired him to kill Mother wouldn’t be able to find me and use me harshly.”  


Corvo’s lip curls without his permission. “The Pendleton twins?”

 

“Yes,” Emily says, and she steps closer to wrap her arms around his waist. “He was going to come rescue you but then… we heard you’d died, in the prison.”

 

He shakes his head. “I escaped, with her.” He touches the Crow on his shoulder.

 

Emily reaches out and touches the Crow, eyes wide and sad. “You said she spoke with the voice you loved the most. Is it… is it mother?”

 

Corvo swallows back the low sob he wants to let loose, and nods instead. “ _Oh, my love,_ ” the Crow says, her voice rich and sorrowful. “ _What I wouldn’t give to hold you in my arms, one last time.”_

 

He presses his lips together to hold in his response to that, finally focusing on the room around him. Daud hasn’t moved, still standing at the head of the table, hands raised in the universal gesture for surrender over his head. Corvo glances over at Paolo, who surprisingly, has his pistol trained on Daud’s head. He looks down at Emily whose gaze turns pleading and Corvo sighs. “Paolo, put it down,” he requests.

 

“See, the way I’m hearing this,” Paolo says without moving, “is that this man killed your wife, kidnapped your daughter and left you die in prison.”  


If Corvo was reading this in a book, he’d laugh at the irony.

 

Daud snorts quietly. His eyes have never left Corvo’s. “He’s not wrong, bodyguard,” he says.

 

Paolo’s finger cocks the pistol.

 

Rage still boils under his skin, and Corvo can taste the Void at the back of his throat, but he steps away from Emily to touch the top of Paolo’s pistol and gently urges him to lower it. “This is the first time I’ve seen my daughter in five years, my friend,” he says quietly. “The last thing I want to do is kill a man in front of her.”

 

Emily nearly collapses in relief. “I know what he did,” she says. “I remember that day at least half as well as you,” she continues. “I also know that Daud, or his men, haven’t killed since.” She frowns. “Except in self defense, but that doesn’t count.”

 

There is another beat of tense silence, and Paolo glances over. “I think you owe me some more explanation, my friend,” he says, and his pistol never wavers. “Like what your real name is.”

 

Corvo sighs. He supposes he couldn’t remain anonymous forever. “My name, Paolo… has been a secret for five years. Until Theodanis, and today, no one has spoken it in that long time. It’s been a secret for a _reason_. Can I count on your silence?”

 

Paolo’s lips turn up at the corners, a sure sign that he’s amused. “Depends on the name, old Crow.”

 

“My name is Corvo Attano,” he says.

 

The rush of relief he feels takes him by surprise. The name also seems to take Paolo by surprise because his arm lowers and he takes his eyes from Daud to stare in shock. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me, that you’re the Royal Protector of the late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin.” He swings his gaze around to look at Emily. “That makes you Emily Kaldwin, rightful heir to the throne.”

 

Emily pulls a face. “No thank you,” she says. “I’d really much rather be myself.”

 

Paolo clicks his tongue in disapproval. “What you’d rather is immaterial. The fact is, you are the rightful Empress, and you…” He turns to look at Corvo again. “You have been lying to me.”

 

Knowing how Paolo feels about his allies lying to him, Corvo can’t help but smile. “I haven’t,” he says without offense. “I told you they called me Crow. They do.”

 

Paolo purses his lips, but lets it lie. Corvo isn’t naive enough to think that he’s letting it go, and is just thankful that the Howler isn’t willing to drag it out in front of Daud and… Emily. He moves back around the room, standing behind Emily, and staring at the Angel of Karnaca.

 

“Corvo, please,” Emily says. “I know what he did. I forgave him.”

 

That’s clearly the first Daud’s heard of it, as he takes a step back in shock and he stares at Emily like he’s never seen her before in his life. “You forgave him,” Corvo repeats flatly.

 

Emily nods, face clear of regret or anguish. “Mother would have too.”

 

As one, every occupant of the room turns to look at the disgruntled Crow sitting on the work table. She fluffs her feathers, draining some of the Void out of Corvo and says, clear as a bell, “ _Am I meant to forgive him for what he did to me?_ ”

 

To normal ears, even ones with a touch of the Void, it just comes out as a shriek and a caw. Daud, Emily and Paolo turn to Corvo with various expectant expressions, looking for a translation. “She asks if she’s meant to forgive Daud for what he did to her,” Corvo repeats quietly.

 

Emily and Daud both flinch, and the Crow flits from the table to Corvo’s shoulder again. “ _He killed me_ ,” she says again. _“He killed me.”_ When they look to Corvo again, he just shakes his head. He can’t say those words aloud any more. She turns her Void eyes onto Daud again. When she speaks, her voice is a reluctant murmur. “ _His hands have done such violence,_ ” she laments.  “ _But there is a different dream in his heart.”_

 

She jumps off his shoulder and flies up to where his bedroom is, disappearing out of sight. “She says you have a different dream in your heart, one untouched by violence,” Corvo offers, keeping his tone bland.

 

Daud snorts. “I always did want to live on a Vineyard,” he says. “What comes next is up to you, bodyguard.”

 

Emily slides forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t, daddy. Please.”

 

Corvo closes his eyes on visions of stealing Daud’s eyes, of parting the skin of his throat with one easy swipe. “Go,” he tells Daud. “Go home.”

 

He relaxes, but Daud pauses before he Blinks away. “My men? The Crows?”

 

“I am not a murderer,” Corvo says, familiar fury rushing through him. “Your men are safe from me. I will hold up my end of the bargain, _assassin_.”

 

Daud Blinks away, leaving Paolo, Emily and Corvo alone. Putting his pistol away, Paolo claps Corvo on the shoulder. “I’ll tell my boys to stay away for a few days,” he says. “Mindy’ll be curious as anything, though.”

 

Corvo snorts quietly. “Good _bye_ , Paolo.”

 

“I’ll be back in a few days, with Piero Joplin, Corvo,” Paolo responds, only hitching a little on his given name.

 

A moment later and Corvo is alone with Emily.

 

“What happened?” Emily asks, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you come for me?”

 

The question drives daggers into Corvo’s heart and soul but he reaches out and takes Emily’s hand to lead her in the sitting room. She sits with him on the divan and he sighs. “I would have, if I’d any notion you were alive,” he admits. “Geoff Curnow came to me and said your body had been found, that you’d escaped your kidnappers and been killed for it.”

 

“Oh…” she breathes, curling into his side.

 

“So when I was given the means to escape, I took it… and I fled. Perhaps I should have stayed in Dunwall,” he admits. “The Plague was still in the early stages, but you were gone and I… I wasn’t strong enough.”

 

Emily tightens her grip on him, fingers digging into his arm. “You’re the strongest man I know,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you’re alive.” Her voice cracks dangerously and then she’s crying, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. Corvo holds her through it, eyes far from dry, until Emily finally stills, her breathing even and heavy.

 

Corvo settles back against the arm of the divan, draping Emily across the cushions so her head is pillowed by his knee. He sighs, letting his head sink down. “Did you know?” he asks the empty air.

 

“No,” The Outsider admits freely, appearing to sit on top of the divan, inches away from Corvo’s face. “Daud had become boring, I paid him little attention. He doesn’t give a fig about me - like your friend Paolo - and I was content to let them be.” Corvo looks up at him, and the Outsider’s mouth flickers in a faint frown. “If I had known, I would have told you, Corvo.”

 

He lets his expression speak for him; no, the Outsider wouldn’t have done any such thing and they both know it.

 

Cool fingers feather through his too long hair, catching and smoothing away tangles. “Corvo,” the Outsider says in reproach.

 

“Yes, I know,” Corvo sighs, leaning his head against the Outsider’s knee. It’s a casual intimacy they’d indulged in very rarely, when Corvo was touch-hungry and the Void was splintering his skin. He’d known then that he was the Outsider’s favorite, that the deity was willing to suffer touches, and offer them of his own volition.

 

The Outsider continued to thread his fingers through Corvo’s hair, skipping easily around the braids, beads and feathers knotted at the ends. “You have come very far, Corvo,” the Outsider says. “The choices you’ve been making are simply…” he trails off as though looking for a word.

 

“Don’t say fascinating,” Corvo says instantly

 

“Fascinating, yes. Simply fascinating.” Corvo rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move from his position. Emily curls her hands over his leg in her sleep and it’s so shocking to see her that he has to swallow a noise. “Perhaps I will check in on my other Marked,” the Outsider says offhand. “There should be no shortage of interesting things to find.”

 

Corvo snorts, pulling away from the Outsider’s hand. “Considering at least three of us are no end of trouble, I imagine your others must be similarly cursed.”

 

The Outsider makes a noncommittal noise, gazing down at Corvo with his endless black eyes. “You had Daud in the palm of your hand, and you let him walk away. You truly are fascinating.”

 

“I hate that word,” Corvo mutters.

 

Flashing a smile, small but seemingly genuine, the Outsider swirls away on the Void, taking the crackling power building under Corvo’s skin with him as he goes. Corvo picks Emily up off the couch, Blinking up to the second floor and laying her on his bed. Tucking her in makes a familiar pain rise up in his chest but he kisses her forehead before returning to the divan.

 

He’s lived with the pain in his chest for five years now. He has holes in heart the shape of Jessamine and Emily. It’ll take some getting used to before he’ll believe Emily is alive.

 

It seems too much like a dream for him to believe otherwise.

 

*

 

Corvo wakes up to a blow across his face. He disappears in a flurry of Void and feathers, reappearing behind his assailant, livid that he’d let Daud live just to have the assassin turn around and try something.

 

It’s not until his attacker turns around that Corvo realizes he doesn’t recognize him. He’s young, closer to Emily’s age than his build would suggest, and blond with bright blue eyes. The boy spits out a colorful curse in Tyvian that Corvo only understands because of the time he spent with Sokolov.

 

“What?” Corvo says, the fury draining away to be replaced by confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 

The boy points up towards his bedroom, where he’d let Emily sleeping. “What did you _do to her_?” the boy snarls.

 

“I put her to bed, what do you think I did?” Corvo asks, completely baffled.

 

The whaler, for that’s what he must be, goes completely white. “I don’t know how you convinced Daud that this was to be your payment but I swear to the Outsider I’ll kill you for it,” he growls, and his sword flashes out, quick as a bloodfly sting.

 

Corvo Blinks backwards, avoiding the strike. “Emily is my _daughter_ ,” he spits out, fingers of his left hand twitching.

 

The boy freezes in place. “... Attano?” he asks, voice very small, skin pale.

 

“Daddy?” Emily says, sleepy and rubbing her eyes with one hand.

 

Corvo’s heart hurts to hear it, and he forces himself to relax as she Blinks down into his arms. “Good Morning, Emily,” he murmurs, and he turns her gently around to look at the boy.

 

She brightens immediately. “Thomas!” She detaches from Corvo to hug ‘Thomas’ around the waist. “You’re not going to believe what happened!”

 

Thomas hugs her back but doesn’t take his eyes off Corvo. “Oh, I’m really very sure that I will,” he says slowly. He meets Corvo’s eyes. “Sorry, sir,” he says, and Corvo has to give him credit, he actually sounds contrite. “I… uh.. Didn’t think this through.”  


“Thomas is my older brother,” Emily says, bright and happy. “Well, he’s one of them. We’re all a family, the whalers. Daud is sort of like our father… if a father is ornery and closed mouthed.” She grins up at Corvo. “I get two fathers now!”

 

The choking noise that Thomas makes to that is almost enough to cover the recoil that Corvo feels at the idea. “Now that we’ve decided I am not a monster,” Corvo says dryly, “Could we move on to why you’re here?”

 

Clearing this throat, Thomas rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “To be honest, sir, I just woke up and found that Princes-- er-- Emily was missing. I thought to come here and find out if you could see her.”

 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Emily says apologetically. She turns back towards Corvo, a bright smile on her face. “You’re going to move into the Warehouse aren’t you? Please say you are! There’s plenty of space for your workshop, and Daud wouldn’t mind.”

 

Privately, Corvo assumes that’s wholly untrue, but he offers Emily a smile of his own. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he says gently.

 

“But you’re my father,” she says stubbornly.

 

Corvo wants to follow her home, live in her space again, even if that means living with Daud. “Emily,” he murmurs, and opens his arms. She jumps into his embrace again, and he holds her carefully. “I don’t think things are that easy, anymore,” he says to her, ignoring Thomas entirely.

 

“Well it should be!” Emily says stubbornly. “I just found you again!”

 

“You’ll see me all the time,” Corvo tries.

 

Her eyes well up again, and Corvo curses himself for seventeen kinds of fool as she stomps her foot. “No!” she shouts, voice breaking straight down the middle. “I want you to come home! I know we c-can’t go back to the Tower, and M-Mrs. Pilsen is gone forever, and _Mother_ is gone forever, but you’re here. Please, daddy!”

 

Corvo’s heart breaks.

 

Thomas grimaces, rubbing a hand over his face. “If you’re willing, Master Attano, you would be welcome at the warehouse.”

 

“I already know that Daud will disagree with that,” Corvo says.

 

Looking like he wants to say any words other than the ones he’s currently speaking, Thomas sighs. “You let me deal with Daud. The whalers have never separated family if we have them, we’re not going to start now.”

 

“Thomas!” Emily gasps, and flings herself across the small space to wrap her arms around his waist.

 

He leaned his chin on the top of her head. “My payment for this, Princess, is you come back with me now to break the news to Daud, and get the others to help Master Attano gather his things.”

 

She grins up at him. “Deal.” Emily goes back to Corvo’s side, reaching out and hooking her fingers around his. “I’ll be back soon, Corvo. Promise.”

 

Then, they’re gone, and Corvo lets his knees fold, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his floor. When had this become his life?

 

The Void swirls around him for the second time in twenty-four hours and he looks up to find the Outsider crouched in front of him. His face is smooth, but there’s an anxious tension to his mouth that Corvo doesn’t really understand. “Twice in one day?” he muses, “I must be doing something right.”

 

The Outsider reaches out, touching Corvo’s face with cool fingertips. “The coming days are going to be difficult for you,” he says, even as he threads his hands into Corvo’s messy hair.

 

Corvo snorts, feeling his throat lock up. He leans his head forward to rest it lightly on the Outsider’s shoulder. “So you’re suggesting I _don’t_ tell Daud I sold his painting on the blackmarket for a handful of coin, then? Or, perhaps that I should just avoid him entirely?” He sighs, pulling back after too short seconds. “I know what I’m walking into, old friend.”

 

But the Outsider shakes his head. “No, Daud… Daud is the least of your coming troubles, my dear Corvo.”

 

He blinks. “Well that’s… ominous.” He shifts on the floor, taking the Outsider’s hands out of his hair, holding them gently between their bodies. “Tell me,” he urges gently.

 

Another one of his small smiles flits across the Outsider’s marble face. “That would be too easy. Just…” The apprehension slides through his expression again, almost too fast to see. “Someday soon, I may come to you and things will change, my dear Corvo.”

 

"What?” Corvo might have said more, but the Outsider vanishes between one breath and the next.

 

Unease trickles down his spine, but Corvo has no way to contact the Outsider, not without a hell of a lot of Power.  He shakes off his apprehension, moving to the workshop to at least get _some_ work done before his entire world gets upended.

 

He'd learned early on, when he was just getting used to his powers and grieving heavily, that bringing someone back from the dead required a price too high to be paid lightly.

 

It had taken three years to accept, but eventually Corvo had to come to terms with it. He is many things: fighter, protector, witch… A murderer is not one of them.

 

He has choices now. He can stay in the workshop, safe and protected by Paolo and Theodanis or, he can go live with the man who ruined his life.

 

Corvo groans, thoughts running in circles. Truly, there is little choice for him.

 

It's always going to be Emily or nothing at all.

 

*


	7. 7. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Attano frowns, but nods. “I promised to be on my best behavior.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Emily rounds on him, pointing at the crows visible all over the surrounding roofs. “That is not best behavior!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Daud has to hide his smirk behind his hand. Emily sounds just like a tiny version of Rulfio when he’s giving his lessons to the Novices who don’t listen to sense. Rulfio turns his head and Daud can see his expression too is uncharitably amused._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, who is amazing. And for Aeniala who left such lovely reviews. 
> 
> Enjoy, darlings <3
> 
> (As ever, I can be found at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs.

"You want to what."

 

Doggedly, Emily starts again. "I want Corvo to come live with us here in the Warehouse. There's plenty of space for him to work, and you share this job with him anyway."

 

Her mouth is starting to turn down in an impressive pout, but Daud is too dumbfounded to pay it any heed. "He wants to kill me," Daud says.

 

“No, he doesn't,” Emily responds instantly. When Daud just levels a skeptical look at her she sighs, mouth slanting sideways. “Well, maybe he does but he won't because I asked him not to.”

 

Daud has to mentally restrain himself to stop from lashing out at her for that. He takes a deep breath, counting to ten, and when that doesn't work he tries it again. He gets to thirty five before he can speak normally. “Emily, think about what you're asking of us.”

 

Her eyes are damp, but they're calm and clear. Somewhere along the way, the princess grew up when he wasn't looking. “I am,” she says. “I'm asking you to accept my father.” She folds her hands in her lap, looking up at him. “I didn't get to have a mother for very long,” she continues, ignoring Daud’s flinch. “And I thought Corvo was lost to me. Would you truly deny me this?”

 

“There are half a hundred reasons he should never be within a foot of any of us,” Daud says reasonably.

 

“And the other half a hundred reasons are just as valid for his joining,” Emily says instead. “If you tell me no, I'll abide by your decision, of course.”

 

Daud’s eyes narrow. “But?” he prompts.

 

“But I'll be leaving and going to stay with Corvo,” Emily says without a trace of guilt. “I appreciate what you've done for me, Daud. More than I can say. I would have ended up in a far harder world if not for you. You gave me purpose, trust, a family. I can never forget it.”

 

“But you'll still leave,” Daud says, surprisingly hurt by the thought. Emily has grown on him, perhaps like a fungus, but she brought a much needed light to the lives of his whalers.

 

Emily’s expression softens. “Daud,” she says, moving forward and kneeling in front of where he sits on a chair. “He’s my father.”

 

Daud can’t remember his father, he barely remembers his mother, only that she ran in circles that he now finds himself in. ‘Never trust a witch’ had been her oft repeated phrase, and the only thing he can reliably remember after all these years.

 

“You can’t promise he won’t try to kill us,” Daud points out.

 

She nods in response, eyes serious. “He agreed to a mutual ceasefire. And it was Thomas’ idea to offer him a place here.”

 

Thomas, who has been lingering in the doorway starts violently. “Oh _thanks_ , Princess,” he says sourly.

 

Emily grins over at him. “Well, it was!”

 

Daud raises a single eyebrow, staring Thomas down. His second in command fidgets uncomfortably before coming further into the room, leaning his hip against the table. “Look,” he says, sounding defeated in the face of Emily’s smile and Daud’s obvious skepticism. “The way I see it, it can go one of two ways: one, you give Princess a hard no, and she leaves. Galia, Cici and Kita will revolt by the way, if that happens,” Thomas adds. “Or, Lord Attano comes here, we give him a workshop space, and things are awkward, and tense.”

 

Snorting, Daud says, “Neither of those things are very promising Thomas.”

 

“Maybe not,” Thomas says, sounding far too indulgent. “But Attano is not only a Marked man but a relatively powerful witch. I’d rather him where we can keep an eye on him and on our side, than risk alienating him.”

 

Emily huffs, shoving at Daud’s knee. “He’s my father!”  


Daud growls low in his throat. “Fine. Thomas, carve out a place on the first floor for his workshop, gather everyone and get volunteers and get his things.” He fixes Emily with a sharp glare. “If your father does _anything_ to any of my men, I will not hesitate to retaliate.”

 

She nods solemnly. “I know you won’t believe me,” she says quietly, “but my father is not a violent man. When we were still in Dunwall together, when people tried to hurt mother, he always tried to find another way.”

 

That catches his attention.

 

Thinking back to the day they killed Jessamine - something that Daud tries never to do - he realizes it’s true. Corvo had been armed to the teeth that day, and all he’d done was block shots with his sword. He’d fired the gun only once, into the air, as though he’d been hoping for help.

 

All of the whalers had survived that day, despite Corvo’s physical prowess. He’d never attempted to kill any of them.

 

Daud swears, low and vicious under his breath, even more annoyed when Emily only smiles widely at him. “Enough out of you,” he barks. “Go help Thomas.”

 

She disappears in a burst of Void, and Daud is left alone.

 

He uses Void gaze to watch the whalers flit around the first floor, carrying boxes and furniture around, and if he strains his ears, he can hear Rinaldo and Rulfio complaining about the heavy table with the vice grip bolted onto it.

 

Daud watches them silently, unmoving from his seat in his bedroom, startled when Cici appears in the doorway, void fluttering around her. “Boss?” she asks, her voice cautious.

 

He focuses on her. “Cici,” he greets, not bothering to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. “Where have you been?”

 

She raises an eyebrow. “Addermire?” she responds, with an obvious ‘ _you idiot_ ’ tacked on to the end of the phrase. “With Sokolov.” Daud nods, remembering sending her now. “Strangely, as we were getting him settled with Hypatia, Paolo from the Howler’s showed up with another man and said the Crow King sent them, and he was going to help cure the plague. Know anything about that?”

 

Daud nods again. “Yes, Corvo said as much to us when we last spoke.”

 

Cici frowns. “You gave him a name?”

 

Groaning, Daud rubs his hand over his forehead. “No,” he says. “He gave me his own. The Crow King is Corvo Attano, Emily’s father and the former Lord Protector.” He glances down between them, focusing on the work going on below. Cici follows his gaze, her eyes turning ink black as she activates their shared Void gaze. “He’s also moving in, because Emily begged and got Thomas in on it.”

 

Her eyes bulge a little in shock and Daud ducks a hastily tossed rock. “Have you lost your mind?!” Cici hisses.

 

He’d handle it better if she’d just shriek at him.

 

“You want to tell her no, she can’t have the only family member she can ever have back?” Daud retorts. “She spent five years thinking he was dead. You’re always telling me to have a heart. Well, I had one, I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

Cici leans her forehead against the doorjamb. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Daud.”  


“Emily is convinced he won’t kill me.”

 

She snorts an unattractive laugh. “‘Cause the girl isn’t biased,” she points out, shaking her head. “No, no, you don’t need to say it, _I’m_ certainly not going to tell the girl no. I am, however, going to point and laugh when you’re wrong.”

 

Daud rolls his eyes. “Is that before or after Attano kills me?”

 

Thinking about it, Cici shrugs. “Depends,” she sasses, and disappears as quickly as she had appeared.

 

Groaning quietly, Daud drops his head into his arms, leaning heavily against his desk. The unfortunate part is, she isn’t wrong: This is such a bad idea.

 

*

 

At least, Daud thinks with vicious glee, Corvo looks as uncomfortable as everyone else feels. He’s standing in the middle of the room that they cleared out for him, on the first floor, as far from Daud’s office as they can get. One wall is nearly all windows, with a door that opens out to the Aventa Quarter.

 

The room is filled with shelving and tables, with a small stove that Jacobi had installed for him. Attano clears his throat, rubbing the back of his back of his neck awkwardly. “You really didn’t have to do this,” he says to the assembled whalers.

 

“You’re the Princess’ father,” one of them drawls.

 

Attano seems to accept that, and he nods. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I suppose I should start unpacking.”

 

Daud watches from the highest point he can, eyeglass trained on the open window. Jenkins, Jacobi, Rinaldo and Rulfio all stay to help him, with Emily running around being more of a hindrance than a help. “So,” he can hear Rulfio say in his flat accent, “I have a few questions for you.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Attano says and he sounds amused rather than annoyed. The crow at his shoulder offers a loud squawk that Attano hushes her for.

 

The entire thing is fucking unnerving.

 

Rulfio ignores the crow with an ease that Daud is frankly rather envious of. “You’re really Corvo Attano?” Rulf asks, curious.

 

Daud’s just too far away to see the expression Attano makes to that, but he can hear the low laugh. “I am.”

 

“Guessing you didn’t die in prison, then,” Rulfio adds, irreverently.

 

Corvo’s next laugh is a harsh bark, as though he’s unused to doing it. “No, no I definitely didn’t die in prison,” he says, still chuckling. He vanishes, reappearing across the room, and all of them except for Emily jerk backwards half a step. “I had help escaping though,” Attano adds, and in the purplish yellow of Void gaze, the Mark on the back of his hand is a glowing, vibrant teal.

 

“Well,” Rinaldo says, sounding annoyingly impressed. “That explains _a lot_.”

 

“What sort of things can you do?” Jenkins asks, with all the excitement of a teenage boy. “I’ve never met someone else who was Marked like the boss. Can you do what he does?”

 

Attano pauses, and Daud wonders himself what sort of things the man can do with his Void-forsaken Mark. “I don’t really know what Daud can do,” Corvo admits with little rancor. “Except for share his Mark with others, and move like I do. That’s about the only thing we share, I believe - the power to Blink.”  


“We call it Transversing,” Rulfio corrects absently, looking through a box like the nosy bastard he is.

 

Nodding, Attano sits on a table, next to yet another box. “I can also possess things - animals, people, you name it.”

 

Emily pops up between them. “Could you possess me?” she asks, and Daud can imagine the wide eyed expression on her face.

 

Corvo ruffles her hair. “I could but I won’t.” When she makes a noise of disappointment, Corvo says, touching the crow at his shoulder, “I only really use it on her.”

 

“What else?” Jacobi asks, and Daud growls to himself. Attano has himself a rapt audience without even trying.

 

“I can see through someone else’s eyes,” Corvo says slowly. “Or steal them entirely.”

 

Jenkins makes a strange strangled noise. “You can blind people?” he squeaks.

 

“Mm,” Attano makes an agreeable noise, and apparently pretends not to notice when Rinaldo and Jenkins both take a few steps back. “I can also see in the dark, and Call the crows. Any crows. That’s why I always know so much, the crows across Karnaca all report to me.” He sounds rueful after a short pause. “Except for you and your boss. Anyone with the Mark is hidden from the Crows.”

 

“That could be handy,” Rin murmurs.

 

Corvo reaches out and Emily goes to him immediately, leaning into his hug. “I swore to my daughter that I would work with you,” Attano says sharply. “This could be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

 

“Princess,” Rulfio says with all the authority of a seasoned teacher. “Let me talk to your father for a bit. The rest of you too, move it.”

 

Emily pauses at Attano’s side like she wants to ignore Rulf, but five years of training under him takes its toll and she vanishes with the others. “So,” Attano says, without moving from his spot on the table. “You were one the of the ones who helped me cart boxes literally across the city, so I imagine you didn’t clear the room to kill me. You’re old enough and Emily listened fast enough that I’d guess you taught her everything she knows.” His head tilts to the side. “Are you going to warn me off?”

 

Rulfio crosses his arms over his chest. “The day that Daud killed the Empress, he refused to take me along,” he says without preamble. “I’d been injured on a different job for him, and he’d had me teaching the pups with Rin. I warned him not to do this - that we could handle it, if refusing the contract turned contentious.”

 

Attano stills. Daud can see how his entire body seems to freeze, all of his considerable attention on Rulfio. “And?” he prompts.

 

“And my protests fell on deaf ears, as often happens when sense talks. Daud returned a different man, and with Emily too. He put her with the pups and with Emily’s prompting, began planning an assault on Coldridge to rescue you.” Attano startles in surprise. “You haven’t asked - maybe because it ain’t occurred to you that you get to know. But the man who hired Daud and the rest of us was Hiram Burrows.” There’s no response - Attano is still silent and frozen and Rulfio forges on. “Burrows,” he repeats, “And his co-conspirator, Thaddeus Campbell. You already knew the Pendeltwats, Morgan and Custis were in on it.”

 

There was a muffled boom, from… somewhere close by, as though someone had knocked over something heavy. A quick glance shows no such thing, and Daud has only a second to wonder what the noise was before he sees Attano’s mark, limned in gold and teal, before the crows descend.

 

The creatures swirl around the building, screaming and cawing. There aren’t many open windows, which keeps the inhabitants safe, but this scene is going to start drawing attention, and soon. Daud’s passive observation is over. He transverses straight into the workshop, and finds that Emily has returned to her father’s side, though he’s not responding to her pleas.

 

The Crow on his shoulder is screeching loudly, nearly drowning out Emily and Rulfio’s shouting. Daud can’t hear the words she saying, but by the blind rage on Attano’s face, he gathers it’s nothing good. “Boss!” Rulfio shouts.

 

The crescendo of crows grow louder and Daud can barely hear himself think. He clears the space between them in another short transversal, and punches Attano clean across the face.

 

The Crow stops screaming, beak still open as it turns to face him. The crows outside land on the roofs, their noises reduced. It’s quiet enough that Daud can hear the harsh panting of Attano, the rush of blood in his own ears. Attano’s eyes refocus and snap to Daud’s, grey fire drilling into him. “Is it true?” he hisses.

 

Daud regrets everything in his life leading up to this moment.

 

He hopes it’s quick, and that Attano will spare the others. “It is,” he says.

 

The Crow shrieks again, and Attano snarls under his breath, picking the creature up and tossing her towards the open window. “Enough,” he spits. “There’s nothing I can do now.” Instead of flying away, the Crow settles on the sill, scowling down at them.

 

Pausing, because he’d expected a knife in the gut, Daud takes a step back from Attano. “My contacts in Dunwall say that Campbell and Burrows are both dead,” he says. “The new Empress, Delilah Kaldwin, whoever she is had them killed nearly as soon as she took power.”  


The Crow screams something and if Daud didn’t know any better, he could have sworn she screamed Delilah’s name.

 

Attano drew in a slow, even breath. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?” he says, and Daud scowls.

 

He opens his mouth to reply but the Crow squawks again, almost sounding sulky.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Attano says scathingly, now definitely looking up at the bird. “You could have mentioned it _at any point in the last twenty years._ ” When the Crow doesn’t answer, Attano transfers his not inconsiderable attention back on Daud. “Delilah,” Attano says with the dignity of a man who has nothing to hide, “is apparently her half sister.”

 

Emily, half hidden behind Rulfio comes back around and into Attano’s sight. “She’s my aunt?” Emily asks, curious and annoyingly unafraid.

 

“Apparently.” Corvo holds out his hand and Emily scampers over, giving him the hug he’d asked for. “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he murmurs into her hair.

 

“I wasn’t afraid,” she says.

 

Corvo smiles, kisses the top of her head and pulls back just enough to look over at Daud. “Now,” he says. “With Piero Joplin, Alexandria Hypatia, and Anton Sokolov working on a plague cure, we can dedicate our efforts towards figuring out if Luca Abele is involved with this Delilah, and what to do about him.”

 

Thinking of Billie, Daud nods. “With Radanis dead, Luca is his only heir.”

 

“Shit,” Corvo says. “We’ll… deal with that later. First, we have to prove he’s involved at all.” He sighs, looking down at Emily’s hair, and Daud can see the way his fingers tighten on her shoulders before he transfers his gaze back to Daud. “I don’t trust you,” he says, plainly, ignoring the way Emily swats at him for it. “I won’t kill you because you protected Emily when you didn’t have to, and I owe you for that.”

 

Daud scoffs. “I killed her mother, you owe me nothing.”

 

“ _Stop it_!” Emily shouts, and Daud subsides. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, her eyes too big for her face, and filled with tears. “Mother is dead, and Daud was the knife they used. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we’re here now, and we’re both still alive. Can’t that be enough?”

 

Attano frowns, but nods. “I promised to be on my best behavior.”

 

Emily rounds on him, pointing at the crows visible all over the surrounding roofs. “That is not best behavior!”

 

Daud has to hide his smirk behind his hand. Emily sounds just like a tiny version of Rulfio when he’s giving his lessons to the Novices who don’t listen to sense. Rulfio turns his head and Daud can see his expression too is uncharitably amused.

 

Attano is staring at Emily like he’s never seen her before. Then, he smiles, and Daud has to look away for an entire different reason. He has no business watching Attano be a proud father, not now, not ever.

 

“Alright,” he says softly. There’s a strange snapping sound, and the crows one by one fly away, and Attano’s hand is lined in teal before it flickers and goes dark again. He looks up at Daud, and though there’s no warmth to his expression, his grey eyes solemn, their inner fire banked. “Truce.”

 

Daud uncoils, holding out a hand for Attano. “Alright, bodyguard,” he says, “Truce.”

 

They shake.

 

*tbc


	8. 8. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corruption happens the most when you rush._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dani, my beloved queen! And for [lilfayt](http://lilfayt.tumblr.com/) GO LOOK AT IT, IT'S BEAUTIFUL.
> 
> As ever, I can be found at [tumblr!](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/)

“Come on, Crow,” she says, leaning a hip on his work table. “You up and move across the Outsider forsaken city and _don’t_ expect us to be concerned?”

 

Corvo sighs, and if he wasn’t wearing his mask he’d have pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mindy, I know Paolo already told you everything, so I _highly doubt_ that you’re here because of concern. What do you want and how do I make you leave?”

 

Mindy snorts, tsking him. “I might not be concerned about the move. But I am concerned.” When he laughs, bright and bitter, she frowns at him. “You’re a friend of the Howlers, we take care of our own.”

 

“I’m fine,” he says roughly. “This is… a good change.”

 

She stares at him. “Crow, you’re literally living with the man who killed your wife.”

 

He hides his wince behind his mask, turning away from her piercing gaze. “I am aware of what he’s done. He also sheltered my daughter, and this is where she’s chosen to be. Is there anything else I can do for you other than discuss my history which has been done to death already?”

 

Mindy taps her finger against the table. “I need a favor,” she says finally.

 

This is more normal and Corvo relaxes. “What do you need?” he asks.

 

“I need a bone charm,” she says, chewing on her lower lip. He inclines his head, urging her silently to go on. “We have… there’s a Howler. He’s sick - he don’t have the plague, don’t give me that face. He’s heartsick. He doesn’t sleep, wandering about the pub like a forgotten waif. Paolo’s ready to gut him if he doesn’t stop waking everyone up.”

 

Corvo nods. “So you want a charm he can wear so he’ll sleep at night like the rest of you?” he questions, reaching for his carving knife.

 

“If that’s all you’ve got,” Mindy says. “I’d really rather if you could make him forget about his lost love.”

 

He can’t help the way his shoulders twitch at that. “I don’t deal in hearts,” he says. “Who’s his lost love?”

 

Mindy moves, joining him at his bench. She thrusts a bit of paper at him. “Me,” she says, her tone daring him to comment. Corvo takes the paper, smoothing it out so he can read the overly flowery handwriting.

 

“Outsider’s eyes,” he mutters, “did he really ask if you’ve ever combed your hair before?” he adds incredulously when he reaches the end of the missive.

 

She gives him a vicious glare, scraping a hand through her blonde mop as though to prove a point. “He sneaks into my Parlor and leaves a letter like that by my bed every few days. I get rid of the letters, I find new ones. He can’t even look me in the eye, but he’s always around. I’d kill him if he wasn’t one of ours, and Paolo doesn’t want to get in the middle of it.”  


“And you think _I_ do?” Corvo asks, hoping she can hear just how incredulous he is.

 

She waves a hand at him. “You’re in the middle of everything.”

 

Corvo makes a disgusted sound under his breath, and begins searching for a bit of whale bone. “I can’t make a bone charm that will make him fall out of love - or… obsession - with you. But I can make you one.”

 

“Yeah?” she asks, leaning over his shoulder as his fingers find bone. “How?”

 

“I’ll know it when I finish it,” he says, which he’s told her at least four times before. “You can stay and watch, or you can come back later. Don’t go trying to explore the Warehouse.”

 

Mindy looked around and settled in the arm chair one of the whalers had carried over from his old place in the Batista District. “I love watching you work,” Mindy says and when Corvo turns his head to look at her, she gives him a wink that makes him roll his eyes.

 

Corvo turns his back on her, pulling up a stool and takes off his mask. She makes a low noise of disappointment, but he ignores her. Paolo clearly had kept his word and not told even Mindy Corvo’s true identity, but that doesn't mean he's eager to show all his cards. He leans in close to the table, pulling the magnifying lens closer to the bone, and turning up the whale oil lamps for better viewing.

 

The bone in his hand is part of a rib, as thick as his thumb at the widest point, and curved like a grin. He files the sharp broken edges down so it's round and smooth, before setting the iron grating towards him and flattening out the piece.

 

When he’d first discovered his ability to build and create charms, he’d broken so many pieces of bone he’d been ashamed of the carnage.

 

He’d learned, eventually, how much pressure to put, where to bend. What pieces of bone were best, and how to keep from corrupting the magic - something most witches didn’t seem to care for, or about.

 

Corvo takes the iron wire - rare, hard to come by - and wraps it around both ends, a complicated braid that means safety and security. Along the top of the charm, he pauses, thinking it over. It isn’t enough, he needs to add… _something_. He digs through his box of odds and ends, picking up and discarding as many things as he finds. Eventually, near the bottom, his fingers touch something that makes magic zip up his spine.

 

He pulls out a piece of bent silver, and rolls it through his fingers. It’s exactly the length of the whale bone piece, and Corvo smiles to himself. Perfect.

 

With the burner by his elbow, he heats up the silver so it’s malleable and easy to manipulate. Using his fingers, he smooths the silver across the top of the bone, folding it over like a binding. Once it’s fixed there, he threads more iron wire around it to keep it from coming loose.

 

The charm base is complete, and he rolls his shoulders, hearing the pop and crackle of bone. Taking his carving knife, the one he keeps well hidden from prying eyes, Corvo lets himself go.

 

The Overseers all agree that the heretical Outsider is the leading cause for deviation from the Strictures, and that all witches are Marked. But what the Overseers don’t know only saves the rest of them from detection. Corvo bears the Mark, but that’s not what makes him a witch.

 

Since beginning down this path (the path he abandoned when he couldn’t find Emily’s soul in the sea of them) he’d found inside himself a well of power that the Outsider hadn’t given him. Something… _other_.

 

Some of the witches in the Batista district were the sort to charge by the spell, to give everything circumstance and flash.

 

Corvo knows better. Magic is intent. It’s always been intent.

 

And this bone charm is _intended_ to protect.

 

He’s only half aware of what he’s carving into the rib bone, not aware of murmuring under his breath, or when his Crow lands on his shoulder.

 

When he comes back to himself, Mindy is asleep in the armchair, the sun is low in the sky and his oil lamps are nearly out. The bone charm hums under his hands, and when he stands up, his legs are shaky and numb. “Min,” he says, roughly.

 

She opens one eye and blinks at him. “What the fuck,” she says.

 

His hand flies to his face. “Shit,” he says.

 

But Mindy only grins at him. “Outsider’s cock, Crow. If I’d known you were hiding that face under your hideous mask, I’d have tried harder to get you out of your pants.”

 

Corvo blinks at her. “... What?”

 

She has the gall to laugh at him. “You didn’t notice? I’m not sure if I should be sad for you, for me, or just plain amused.”

 

He sneers at her, lip curled. “Stand up, you menace,” he mutters, mostly glad they aren’t talking about his identity. “Shirt.”

 

Mindy unbuttons her vest, opening it to Corvo’s gaze. There’s a challenge in her eyes but Corvo just focuses on the inside pocket of the vest. The charm slides right into it as though it was meant to be there, and he snaps it closed, letting her right her own clothing. He eyes her critically, after she’s buttoned up the vest, and nods. “It doesn’t show. Good.”

 

“What does it do?” Mindy asks, curious.

 

“When he looks on you, his eyes will slide off like water. He’ll have trouble recalling the finer details of your face, trouble remembering where he’s seen you and what you’ve been doing.” She looks impressed and he adds, “This only works for people you find your enemy or someone who means you less than good intentions. For example, it won’t work on me, or Paolo.”

 

She smiles, wide and relieved. “Crow, I could kiss you.”

 

Alarmed, he backs up a step. “Please don’t.”

 

“I owe you a tattoo at the very least. Your arm is my best work, let me give you another. I have a perfect one for your ass, I promise.”

 

“Mindy,” he yelps, taking another step backwards away from her reaching hands. “You are not tattooing my ass, get out of my workshop!”

 

She goes, laughing, and he leans against the table, relieved.

 

“That was some feat, bodyguard.”

 

All relief drains from him in less than a second of words, and Corvo tenses. “Daud,” he greets, and doesn’t quite manage neutral but at least he sounds slightly less than hostile.

 

“Didn’t know you could make those things,” Daud says, gesturing to the scattered bones on his table. “Or at least, not real ones.”

 

Corvo finally drags his gaze up from a point over Daud’s shoulder to sweep over him. “You’re using a corrupted one,” he says, fixing his eyes on where it’s hidden in Daud’s pocket.

 

Daud takes it out of his pocket and tosses it to him. “I’ve lost a few teeth because of it,” he says, and Corvo can’t help the horrified look he gives him. “It’s a useful charm,” Daud defends.

 

Turning the long stick of bone over in his hands, he feels out the magic in it. “This makes you faster,” he says.

 

“But everything hurts more,” Daud agrees candidly.

 

Corvo frowns at the charm. “That’s idiotic,” he says. “I could fix it, if you like.”

 

Daud shrugs. “I saw what it took out of you to make the one for the Howler. You can rest first. I’ve used this charm for years, it’s not going to kill me in another night.”

 

Pausing to take stock of his body, Corvo reluctantly agrees that Daud is correct. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. And if any of your men are using corrupted charms, feel free to leave them for me too.”

 

“Why?” Daud asks bluntly. “You have no reason to help us.”

 

Corvo rolls his eyes. “One, you raised my daughter. Two, my daughter still lives here, surrounded by terrible bone charms. Three, this is what I _do_. And Four, you can pay me if it makes you feel better, or consider it rent.” He puts the bone charm on the edge of his desk, far away from his other supplies.

 

Looking like he’d like to continue complaining, Daud finally just sighs. “Alright, I’ll pass the message.” He clears his throat. “Thank you, bodyguard.”

 

In the dying light of the oil lamps, Corvo hopes the shadows hide his flinch. “You’re welcome,” he says, not entirely succeeding at keeping the bite out of his voice. “Good night, assassin.”

 

Daud’s mouth pinches. “I’m not an assassin anymore,” he says.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Corvo says, “And I am not a bodyguard.” Without waiting for Daud to respond, Corvo Blinks away, landing on the sill to the open window and then disappearing into the fading light. Emily had cleared a space for him in her loft bedroom, and the exhaustion is weighing on him.

 

He’s had enough, for one day.

 

*

 

He wakes up to Emily's face, pressed nearly nose to nose with him. “Corvo!” she cheers. “You slept for a long time.”

 

Groggy and still a little sore, Corvo sits up, rubbing at his left eye. “Time?” he requests.

 

“It's half past nine,” Emily answers promptly. “I was going to wake you for breakfast but Daud said you had a hard day and I should let you sleep.” She smiles at him, all guileless innocence. “I'm glad you two are getting along alright.”

 

Corvo feels as though he's two sentences behind her and only manages a vague nod. “I was working on a project all afternoon,” he says.

 

Emily hums and points over the edge of the loft. “Is that why all the whalers were running around looking for whale bones today?”

 

“They were what?” Corvo asks blankly.

 

She shrugs, moving off the bed and pulling Corvo’s clothing out of the drawers he'd claimed as his. “Thomas said you asked for more.”

 

“I didn't ask for any such thing,” he protests.

 

“Well, Thomas said you needed them,” Emily repeats. “So the others provided.”

 

Suddenly alarmed for his workshop, Corvo gets out of bed and willingly takes the clothes that Emily offers him. “Can you go tell the others,” he starts to ask, with only a slight pause after the word ‘others’, “That whatever they've found so far should be fine and I'm very grateful for their help. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

 

Emily nods, giving him a tight hug. “Alright. See you in a minute!” She Blinks away and Corvo relaxes for half a second before pulling on fresh clothing.

 

He's been given a rare moment of peace so naturally he expects the Outsider to appear and ruin it.

 

When that doesn’t immediately happen, Corvo manages to change and Blink down into the main room before the peace is ruined.

 

There are whalers everywhere, all frozen in shock when he appears in the midst of them. He only recognizes two of them, Thomas and Jacobi, the others are unfamiliar, wide eyed and still.

 

“L-l-lord Attano,” One nervously greets.

 

Corvo clears his throat, pretending not to notice when several of them flinch. “I'm not a lord anymore,” he corrects not unkindly. “You can call me Crow, if it's easier. Or simply Corvo.”

 

“Yes, sir, L-l-l-lord Attano,” the whalers says, looking absolutely mortified. He Blinks away, Void trailing in his wake as he does.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Corvo turns to face Thomas who at least seems slightly less uncomfortable with his presence than the rest of his compatriots. “Emily told me something this morning,” he says. “About the whale bones?”

 

Thomas brightens, nodding. “Daud mentioned you needed more. We've been all over the Port, looking for some. I left the crate in your workshop, sir.” Corvo nods slowly, wondering how Daud had known he was running out of bone. “I also collected all the corrupted charms,” Thomas added.

 

“How many are there?” Corvo asks absently accepting a bowl of some kind of porridge from Emily.

 

“Ten, I think,” Thomas answers and Corvo nearly chokes on his first bite of breakfast.

 

Putting the spoon down, Corvo stares at him. “ _How_ many?”

 

Thomas winces, looking sheepish. “Ten. Maybe nine. I stopped counting. They all came from Dunwall, sir.”

 

That doesn't overly surprise Corvo. He knows intimately well how the Outsider feels about Gristolian witches, claiming they were boring and cut corners where no magic should be shortened.

 

Corruption happens the most when you rush.

 

“Ten,” Corvo says, horrified. “Holy Void, how did any of you survive?”

 

“Dumb luck,” Rulfio says from the doorway.

 

Corvo snorts, turning back to his cooling porridge. "I can't promise miracles," he says to the room at large. "But I can take the charms you already have and remake them to be without corruption."

 

"L-lord At-t-t-tano, sir?" A hesitant voice says from his left side and Corvo tilts his head down to look. The short whaler with the mop of red hair who had squeaked and disappeared in a mortified flash of Void stands there. He barely comes up to Corvo's collarbone, taller than Emily by scant centimeters. "Could -- is b-bone ch-ch-charmin' somethin' someone could l-l-lllearn?"

 

A different whaler, one Corvo doesn't recognize prods the other in the side. "Aw, Void, Pip. He doesn't want to be bothered."

 

Corvo remembers once, a long five years ago now, when the Outsider had first given him his powers. They'd talked of pathways, and seeing them stretch out before his feet and it was his choices that would make the difference.

 

So Corvo smiles, letting it touch his eyes, and says. "Pip, was it?" When the red head nods, wide eyed, he adds, "I'd be happy to teach you."

 

Pip's eyes widen even further, whites showing all around. "R-really?" he stutters out, and slaps a hand over his mouth, blushing a bright, horrified red.

 

"I can't promise you'll be able to make bone charms," Corvo warns. "But I'd be happy to teach you."

 

"T-t-thank you, Lord Attano!" Pip says, and now that Corvo's listening for it, he can hear the way the nerves and insecurities catch at the boy's throat.

 

Corvo swallows his heart, and his pride and places a hand over his heart to give Pip a short, courtly bow. "Please," he says, "Call me Corvo." Pip manages to nod, and flees a second later.

 

Rulfio makes a disgusted noise, hidden inside a laugh. "Well that's it then," he says. "You'll have won over the pups in a week. We're all doomed."

 

Finishing his porridge in a few quick bites, Corvo bows to him too, not half as courtly as the one he gave Pip. "A pleasure to be of service," he says, and Rulfio waves him off. "Em," he says, and Emily runs up to stand beside him, her grin so wide that her cheeks are pink with it. "Why don't you come help me with the whale bones."

 

She nods enthusiastically, and together they go into his workshop where Corvo stops mid step. There are whale bones everywhere. "What."

 

The entire surface of his workbench is covered in singing, stinging bone charms, all on top of a piece of paper that tells him what the charm does, what the nasty side effect is, and who the charm originally belonged to. Everywhere else, though, has various sized bones, including a huge chunk of what looks like a jaw bone.

 

It must weigh fifty stone, and Corvo is utterly baffled as to how they got it in the shop in the first place. "Great Void," he swears, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "When the whalers do things, they don't do them by halves do they?"

 

Emily's eyes are wide and surprised as she looks over the carnage. "That wasn't there an hour ago," she promises, going over to poke at it. The jawbone is bleached white, with long sharp teeth still embedded in it. Corvo can already see possibilities spinning around from the sheer amount of bone he has, but first he has to... Organize.

 

"Right," he says, and pulls his hair up into a messy bun low at the back of his neck. "Can you go get me... Three boxes of medium size? We need to sort out the bones."

 

Emily nods once and vanishes, and Corvo resists the urge to roll up his sleeve. Ignoring the angry magic on his workbench, Corvo begins picking up whale bone and sorting them into piles. Some pieces are only good enough for small charms, others large enough for more complicated ones. Some still are good for the ones that are special.

 

He picks through them, humming under his breath. He doesn't know the song, nor the words, he's only heard it in the swarm of his crows. He likes the tune, it's minor lifts and the haunting melody. He hopes whoever first sang it passed it on to a child or a sibling. He'd like to know the rest of the tune.

 

"Boxes!" Emily says, appearing next to him.

 

Together, they box away all the bones, hiding them in various places around the room that are easy to get to. Corvo isn't exactly sure what to do with the jawbone, so he leaves it on the table, letting it dominate the center of the room. He can chisel away at it later, when he's not distracted.

 

He finds Pip's bone charm easily, in the center of the lot, glowing a sick yellow-red color to his void touched eyes. According to the paper, it makes him less visible, blurred around the edges. As soon as Corvo picks it up, he can feel his muscles tighten.

 

In two strides, he clears the room, sticking the charm in the vice grip and holding it there. "Corvo?" Emily asks, sounding concerned.

 

Gesturing with one hand, Corvo digs out his rock hammer with the other. "This is the reason for Pip's stutter," he murmurs. "It locks up his throat, trying to keep him quiet." Emily makes a horrified sound and the sound of displaced air makes him look over his shoulder. She's a good six feet away now and Corvo stifles a smile. "It won't hurt you if you don't touch it," he says. "And it won't hurt you at all, in a second."

 

With one good blow, the charm falls to pieces and the magic winks out. That's one song silenced.

 

"L-l-lord At-t-tano?" Pip says, and swears under his breath in Tyvian.

 

Ignoring the stutter, Corvo turns towards Pip. "Ah, good," he says. "This one will be a fascin-- This lesson will be good for you," he says, cutting himself off half way. "I took your bone charm, and now I'm going to fix it." He smiles, keeping the tide of the void at bay. "I'll need your help with that first, son."

 

Pip's eyes widen and Emily bounces excitedly at his side. "W-wh-what do you n-n-need me to do?" Pip spits out.

 

Looking over Pip's form, and the strength of the charm before he'd broken it, Corvo decides to make it a larger, more complicated charm. It'll take longer, and he runs the risk of them growing bored, but it'll be good for Pip once it's completed. "I need you to go into that box, Emily, show him please, and pick out two pieces of bone that just... Call to you."

 

As they putter about behind him, Corvo pulls out his carving knife, the Mark of the Outsider carved into the handle more for sentimentality than for any true magic.

 

He turns on the stove, pulling out his copper pot. He knows what herbs to put in it by heart, barely paying his hands attention as they pour in dried withergrass, rue, and hemlock essence.

 

Pip appears by his elbow, holding out two sizable pieces of bone. "Into the pot," he says, and watches as the boy places them gently into the mess at the bottom. "Now, choose a spirit," he says, and opens the cabinet under the sink.

 

"D-d-does it matter?" Pip asks, and Corvo shakes his head. After a second, Pip pulls out a jug of mulberry mead. "This."

 

Corvo pours it into the pot, turning up the heat to bring the mixture to a boil. "Now, we wait," he says.

 

"You didn't do that for the Howler yesterday," Emily says, frowning. "Why is this one different?"

 

He favors her with a smile, pleased she asked. "I'd already done this part. All the bones I brought with me have been treated. But these bones are new, they've not been cleaned or treated the way I need to have them. That Pip chose the bones and the base means these bones will be more attuned to him specifically."

 

Pip blinks slowly, looking at the copper pot. "Which m-means?"

 

"It means that if anyone were to liberate the charm from you, it won't work half as well for them, if at all." He curls his belt down, showing them the bone charms sewed into it. "These are all mine, I keep them hidden but they're still attuned to me and only me. I've made a few for Paolo as well, in this way."

 

Eyes widening again, Pip squeaks. "The Howler l-l-leader?"

 

The pot starts to boil, top clacking loudly, and Corvo rescues the mixture before it can boil over. "Yes, I lived on the edge of his territory for a while. We became friends, in a sense." Corvo pours out the liquid, and fishes the bones out with iron tongs. "Get the water in the sink for me?" he asks, and Emily turns on the tap for him. Rinsing the bones in cold water, Corvo sets them on a cloth to dry.

 

"Now what?" Emily asks.

 

"Now, I start carving," he says, and he sits on the stool. "Feel free to gather closer, but I probably won't be in a state to answer questions, once I start." He smiles at them both, giving Emily a half hug when she leans against him. "Anything you want to ask before I start?"

 

When they both shake their head, Corvo nods, turning back to the bones scattered around his hands. For the second time in as many days, Corvo expands his pool of internal magic, reaching out for the Void.

 

The Void answers back.

 

*

 


	9. 9. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You need some company?” Daud asks, eyeing the birds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. This is for Dani, Aeniala, and Lilfayt. 
> 
> Special special thanks to Lilfayt for all the ART. I'm serious, this art is gorgeous and holy crap. First we have [Paolo, and Jess the Crow,](http://lilfayt.tumblr.com/post/155323300870/a-scene-from-missdreawrites-fic-an-omen-in-the). But we also have [Witch!Corvo](http://lilfayt.tumblr.com/post/155517155190/witchcorvo-for-missdreawrites-fic-an-omen-in). Thank you SO MUCH. I love them. 
> 
> In this chapter, we drive the plot along, just a little. And the Slow Burn heats up. Just a little bit. Enjoy!
> 
> As ever, I can be found at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. Come talk to me! :D

Daud finds them seven hours later. Every novice can be found in Attano's workshop, though the man seems totally oblivious to their presence. Pip and Emily are chief among them as they lounge all over various pieces of furniture, clearly mostly stolen from the common room.

 

Attano is hunched over his work desk, preternaturally still, fingers and knife moving over bits of whale bone. Switching his gaze to see through the void, Daud can see the blue flashes of magic around his fingers, though the Mark on Attano's hand is strangely silent. "What's going on here?" he asks, some instinct telling him to keep his voice down.

 

"He's making a Pip a new bone charm," Emily murmurs back, her head resting on her arm. "He's been at it for hours, hasn't moved at all."

 

Daud waves them away. "I know you lot all have things you're not doing. Go do them, please." One by one the novices reluctantly transverse away, all but for Emily. "What?" Daud asks tiredly.

 

She hesitates, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. "I don't really want to leave him alone."

 

"Fine," he says. "I'll stay. I have some paperwork to do anyway, and things to tell him when he... Emerges." Emily nods and disappears, leaving Daud alone with a vulnerable Attano. That, he muses, tells him more about how much she trusts him than her words. It would be the work of moments to stab Corvo between the ribs without him ever noticing Daud was there.

 

Instead he drops down into the armchair, watching Corvo's flashing of teal magic. The man's hair has escaped the bun he'd put it in, and it hangs down in uneven strands, hiding Attano's eyes from Daud's gaze.

 

There's something almost musical in the way his fingers move over bone and metal, coupled with the eerie hum of magic and the undercurrent of Attano’s own voice.

 

He spends a quiet hour reading over Thomas’ reports as Attano works his magic, when the low hum of magic suddenly dies off. Daud looks up from his paperwork to see Corvo sit up slowly, spine cracking audibly. “It’s been eight hours,” Daud says quietly. “The hour is just past nine, and Emily left you dinner on the corner of the table.”

 

Attano tenses a little at his voice but relaxes a moment later. “Thank you,” he says, and his voice is rough. He rolls his shoulders, bones popping and shifting. “I didn’t realize so many of your men were using these… faulty charms,” he says after a second, turning on his stool to face Daud.

 

Daud shrugs one shoulder. “They were plentiful in Dunwall.” An annoyed expression crosses Attano’s face, and he has to hide a smile at it. “I take it you aren’t over fond of the witches in Dunwall?”

 

“I can’t say I’ve ever met one,” Attano admits. “But their magic is lazy, and they make broken bone charms in bulk and simply throw them at the unsuspecting.” He looks over at the ones laid out on the table. “Like this one. This one allows you to regain your magical energy by drinking water instead of remedies, but it lowers your tolerance for the stuff so you can do less with what you’ve been given. It makes _no sense_.”

 

“We do try to use them sparingly,” Daud says and Attano narrows his eyes. “Before Karnaca, we used everything we had and there wasn’t much to go around.”

 

Attano pauses at that, before nodding slowly. “Well,” he says after an awkward pause. “Now that I’m here, we can do this the proper way.” He stands, twisting to grab a few things. “Go look through the box of bones just there. Pick two of them, doesn’t matter which.”

 

Baffled, Daud does as he asks, hunting through the boxes of whale bones, inwardly marveling at the sheer amount of them. There’s too many to pick out the individual pieces, but Daud’s hand eventually brushes against something that makes his Mark flare with power.

 

He picks out a sizeable piece, and hands it over to Corvo who makes a sound of approval. “Good,” he says, and puts it into a copper pot. “Now, pick a spirit. Under the sink.”

 

Feeling faintly foolish, Daud grabs the first thing his hand comes to and hands it over, watching as Attano dumps it into the pot and turns the stove unit on, coaxing the flame to life. “What was the point of all that?”

 

“If you pick the bone, and the spirit, it attunes more to your particular brand of magic,” Attano answers absently. “General bone charms, the ones that guard against sleeplessness, pregnancy, or the plague, those are small things.” He gestures to the pot, and the other bone charms. “These are… larger, in the grand scheme of magic.”

 

Daud watches the pot for a few minutes, as Attano moves around the room putting things away. “You weren’t a witch before,” he says, half a question. “Before Coldridge, and everything.”

 

Attano pauses, before slowly putting down the box of whale bones. “No,” he answers. “I was not.” He waits, watching Daud carefully.

 

“Is it because of the Mark?” Daud asks, which isn’t really the question he wanted answered but it’ll do.

 

“Did I become a witch because of the Mark?” Attano clarifies. “No. I became a witch to find a way to bring Emily back from the dead.”

 

Put so boldly, Daud has to blink in surprise. “That was… more honest than I expected you to be,” he admits.

 

Attano’s smile isn’t a kind one. “When the Outsider gave me the crows and they spoke to me in Jessamine’s voice, I went searching for Emily’s. It took me a few years to figure it out but, that way lies darkness and ruin.” The pot begins to boil and Attano takes it off the heat at once, letting it simmer down. “So I gave it up,” he finishes, hands busy. “But I’d opened up a part of myself to that sort of magic, so I decided to use it.”

 

“That’s the magic that gives you the ability to make bone charms?” Daud asks.

 

“You could make them too, with just your Mark to guide you,” Attano offers. “But mine are… different.”

 

Daud smirks. “You mean better.”

 

Attano smirks back. “I did, yes.”

 

The moment stretches, and Daud clears his throat awkwardly. “Thank you, for all this. Considering how long it takes you, I wouldn’t fault you for stopping entirely.”

 

But Attano waves him off. “It’s no trouble,” he says, and Daud doesn’t even think he’s lying. “This is how I made my living,” Attano adds, pointedly. “I’ll be doing these for a long time past your mens needs. That this helps you is incidental, but not unwanted.”

 

“Not too long ago you were threatening to kill me,” Daud says.

 

Attano sighs. “I was angry,” he says. “I still _am_ angry. You single-handedly managed to ruin my life in the span of five minutes.” His eyes slide away before coming back up to meet Daud’s fearlessly. “But I’m man enough to know that it wasn’t your fault. That you were a tool, a knife, and you did your job. Emily trusts you and she has always been a stellar judge of character.”

 

Daud snorts. “Emily trusts too easily.”

 

“Well she trusts you, so maybe she does trust too easily,” Attano says with a small smile. It fades after a moment though, leaving Attano expressionless. “I realize you’re guilty, and looking for punishment, but you won’t find any here. I don’t forgive you, and if I ever do it will be a long time coming. But I don’t hate you either.” He shrugs one shoulder. “We have a truce. I aim to keep it.”

 

“You’re just full of surprises,” Daud murmurs. “You’re not going to work on that charm all night, are you?” he asks, when Attano drains the bone from the pot.

 

Attano shakes his head. “No. I’ll start first thing in the morning.” He tilts his head as though his listening to someone who isn’t there, and glances over at the windows. “I have another obligation apparently,” he adds dryly, and Daud looks up to see a line of crows on the open window sills. They’re all staring down at them, beaks open but no sound comes from them which is the eeriest thing Daud’s seen in a long while.

 

“You need some company?” Daud asks, eyeing the birds.

 

For a second, Attano looks like he’s going to say no, before he nods slowly. “If you’re willing to give it,” he says after a second. “This may be easier with two sets of eyes instead of just mine.”

 

“What about them?” Daud asks, gesturing to the crows.

 

“That’s why they came to get me,” Attano answers. “They can’t get somewhere, and that is very odd. It’s also never been a problem before tonight. There’s some kind of magic at work and it’s not mine, Paolo’s or yours.”

 

Daud checks his gear, tightening his wristbow onto his left hand. “Lead the way, Attano.”

 

Attano’s nose wrinkles. “You can call me Corvo,” he points out.

 

“Yes, I know,” Daud responds. “Attano.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Attano turns away and pulls a bag out from behind one of the tables. In quick, precise movements, he arms himself and pulls his strange wooden crow mask on, sweeping his long hair up behind the hood of his jacket. “Try to keep up,” he says, mouth curving under the mask. He disappears in a flicker of the Void, and Daud tracks him to the roof of the building next to theirs. He transverses after Attano, and they make their way silent across the city, following a cadre of crows.

 

Daud nearly overshoots, saved from an embarrassing fall by Attano’s quick grab, holding him steady on the edge of a roof in the Cyria Gardens district. Despite the late hour the city streets are busy, filled with Grand Guard and a few shopkeepers, the latter of whom are making quite the fuss about being ousted from their homes.

 

Attano whistles sharply and the crows they’d been following wing down closer to street level, settling on lampposts and other awnings. His hand glows briefly and Daud has the singular experience of being able to see Attano’s eyes bleed black like the Outsider’s as he listens in on the conversations through the crows he’d scattered about the street.

 

He holds his tongue until Attano’s eyes return to the familiar silver blue and he focuses. “Anything?” Daud asks.

 

“It appears that Breanna Ashworth is closing the Conservatory,” Attano says slowly.

 

Daud raises an eyebrow. “This seems like an awful lot of fuss for that.”

 

Attano makes a noise of agreement. “My crows can’t get close to the Conservatory itself,” he reports after another long pause. “Only magic can keep their sight from an area, whether or not it’s Outsider blessed or not.” He gestures to the ornate building. “Someone in there is casting very powerful magic.”

 

“Well,” Daud says, when Attano turns to face him. “After you.” Attano nods and swings his head around to look for good perches and Daud takes his wrist. “No killing,” he says.

 

The concerned and vaguely angry expression softens around Attano’s mouth, and he very nearly smiles. “No killing,” he agrees. “Let’s go.”

 

They transverse down to the main entrance, where the Grand Guard are erecting a Wall of Light, and Attano pulls a face.  Daud can agree with the unspoken sentiment. He hates the blighted things too, and with some careful transversing, they manage to make their way around the bulk of the guards and onto an overgrown ledge.

 

Crouched down, Daud and Attano find an open window and slip into the Conservatory, stopping just long enough to close the window behind them. Attano reaches over Daud’s shoulder, drawing an invisible mark onto the window with his Marked hand. “What’re you doing?” Daud asks curiously.

 

Attano taps the eyes of his mask with his free hand. “Making sure we remember which way we came in,” he answers, and Daud switches his gaze to see with the void. In Attano’s customary teal, a fine layer of magic sits on the window in a crudely drawn bullseye.

 

Daud turns to sweep the room, and pauses. It’s been some time since he’d been in the Royal Conservatory, but he’s fairly certain that it didn’t look like… _this._

 

The room they’re in is dim, the only light coming from the slightly frosted windows, and a few scattered candles. Attano makes a noise that Daud can’t parse, and he follows the witch around the table that dominates the room. Behind the table there’s a pile of bodies, all in various states of dismemberment.

 

Judging by the smell, they haven’t been dead long.

 

Attano’s lip curls. “If you want to search them, feel free, but I’m getting rid of the bodies.”

 

Daud shakes his head. “All yours,” he says, taking a step back.

 

With a quiet murmur, blue fire pours out of Attano’s Marked hand and engulfs the corpses. They burn to ash in seconds, though the flames feel cold to Daud. “Neat trick,” he murmurs.

 

Attano smiles a little and flexes his wrapped hand. “It takes a lot of out of me. But who knows what the plans for those corpses were,” he says. “I have a feeling this jaunt just got a lot more dangerous.”

 

Daud turns his void gaze on the hall, looking for living bodies. “This hall seems clear,” he says. “What do you know of the Conservatory?”

 

“I know that it’s run by a woman named Breanna Ashworth,” Attano answers absently. “She’s Gristolian upper echelon and came here to run the Conservatory, for reasons she’s largely kept to herself.”

 

They walk slowly through the hall, and Daud slips ahead of Attano to peer through the keyhole of the door in front of them. It takes a second for his eyes to focus in the dim light and he pulls back, hissing through his teeth. “Witches,” he says.

 

“What.” Attano pulls off his mask and hands it Daud, taking his place at the door and peering through the lock. Whatever he sees makes him curse in vicious North Serkonan, moving away from the door. “There are two of them,” he says. “And they’re both facing the door. We can’t get out of this hall unless one of them leaves.”

 

Daud nods, mind turning over and rejecting several plans. “What do you suggest?”

 

Attano scrubs a hand through his hair. “Open the door and Blink up somewhere high. And then, trust me.”

 

Mentally translating ‘Blink’ into ‘transverse’, Daud hesitates, reading Attano’s determined face before nodding once. He looks around and points to a high cabinet several feet to their left. “I’ll be up there.”

 

Attano nods back, standing and backing up until he’s in the shadows of the doorway they’d already left. Daud tosses him his mask, and once it’s back on Attano’s face, he makes for a terrifying visage, hooded, and half in shadow, a skull and beak gleaming in the moonlight spilling from a window.

 

Daud pushes the door open and transverses away. He can hear the witches startle and one of them hesitantly says, “I’ll check it out, it was probably just the wind.”

 

She steps through the door and Attano moves. The witch isn’t looking at him, she’s turned to look at the door, checking the lock and handle. Even if she turned at that exact moment, Attano would already be upon her.

 

He makes no sound when he runs and the shadows seem to follow him, filling the hall with darkness. Then, faster than Daud’s eyes can track; Attano is gone and only the witch remains.

 

She stands blankly for a second, before she woodenly turns and closes the door, cutting her off from her sister witch. She takes a few jerky steps backwards, standing very still once she’s a good two feet or so away from the door and she says, with a sardonic twist that’s all Attano, “Sorry about this.”

 

Attano steps out of her shadow, catching her when she stumbles several feet forward, before he wraps her up in a fierce choke-hold that has her unconscious in his arms within moments. He lifts her gently and carries her back into the room they’d entered from.

 

Daud transverses back to his side as Corvo shakes out his Marked hand again. “I hate using that,” he says.

 

It’s easy enough to take out the witch on the other side of the door. Without her sister there to keep her occupied, she’s turned her back on the door and Daud slips up behind her and knocks her out, carrying her to join the other one. Moving deeper into the Conservatory yields no more witches but more carnage.

 

Daud pulls a piece of paper off one of the walls, scanning it for information. “You know,” he says meditatively, “this doesn’t look like a _mite_ infestation.” Attano looks over his shoulder and snorts quietly.

 

“The main room is up ahead,” Attano says. “There’s a lot of activity, I can’t tell what’s going on.” Transversing from the third floor to the heavy metal chandeliers puts them far above the people on the main floor, and Daud crouches carefully, leaning to hear better.

 

To his eyes, he can see Breanna Ashworth, surrounded by five or six more of the witches, as well as Luca Abele and a man he can’t quite make out.

 

“That’s Jindosh,” Attano murmurs in his ear. “Whatever your men did to him has changed him, but his clothing is the same.”

 

“What do you mean you can’t fix him?!” Abele shouts, his voice echoing up to where they hide. “His mind is gone, and you are a considerably powerful witch! Fix it!”

 

Ashworth puts her hands on her hips. “I am not a miracle worker, Luca,” she explains with remarkable patience. “And I’m not a healer. It’s his Natural Philosophy that did this to him, no magic of mine or anyone else's.”

 

Jindosh cowers when Abele shouts, covering his ears with his hands. “No, no no,” he says with a low moan. “I can remember, the copper wire needs to…” he trails off, and Daud winces.

 

Abele points at his jibbering as though to say ‘see?!’ and Ashworth sighs. “My magic cannot cure his ails, Luca,” she repeats. “There are others in this city with stronger healing magic than I. Bring him to the Crow King if you must. But as far as I’m concerned, and as far as _she’s_ concerned, Jindosh is through.”

 

“How else am I going to get those soldiers?” Abele asks, with more than a hint of a whine in it. “Jindosh only made a few, and they aren’t enough.”

 

Ashworth shrugs thin shoulders. “I don’t care,” she tells him bluntly. “Come up with something else. This is the last time you’re going to be welcome here, Luca Abele,” she warns. “Once the Grand Guard have sealed off the street, I’ll call the rest of my sisters here and we’ll continue our work against the Oracular Order.”

 

Daud raises an impressed eyebrow and glances at Attano. The mask covers most of his face but Daud can see the pensive set to his mouth. “The way I see it,” Daud says quietly, “is that we have a few options here. We can wait for Abele and Jindosh to leave, and then take out the rest of the coven and Ashworth, or we wait and see what they do.”

 

Attano tilts his head to one side, thinking. Their temples brush together, and Daud is surprised to find his customary urge to pull away isn’t there. “We should wait,” Attano finally says. “I don’t want to,” he adds. “But Ashworth is connected to someone who isn’t here.” He gestures with his left hand. “She’s not Marked.”

 

“Damn,” Daud murmurs. He hates to leave it unfinished, but Attano is right. They need more information. “Let’s go. The others will be wondering where we’ve gotten off to.”

 

Nodding, Attano transverses after him, and they end up back on the overgrown ledge they’d gone in on. Just below them a Grand Guard Captain relieves himself against a bush, and Daud gestures with one hand. Hanging on the Captain’s belt is a key.

 

Activating his Mark, Daud pulls the key to him, catching it as it flies towards him. “Royal Conservatory key,” he says, peering at the keychain. “Could come in handy.”

 

It takes them some time to make it back across the city. Attano isn’t flagging but Daud is, and the second or third time he stumbles from mana drain, Attano catches him with an arm around his waist. “Here,” Attano murmurs, pressing a blue potion into his hand. “It’s Piero Joplin’s Remedy for the Plague. It helps.”

 

Daud eyes it for a second before drinking it quickly. It doesn’t quite recharge him, but he makes it the rest of the way to their warehouse without help. “I’ll let the others know what we saw tonight,” Daud says once they’re in Attano’s workshop. “Theodanis will be by in a few days too. I think we finally have enough to tell him.”

 

Attano pulls off his mask, hanging it on a peg. “And I may be getting a visit from Luca Abele himself.” He pulls a face, rubbing the space between his eyes.

 

“Is Ashworth right? Most of your original charms are for healing - could you fix Jindosh’s mind?”

 

Attano is shaking his head before Daud even finishes the question. “No,” he answers. “What was done to it would require divine intervention and I promise, Jindosh isn’t nearly interesting enough to get _his_ attention.”

 

“Thank the stars for that,” Daud mutters. He hovers in the doorway, feeling awkward. “Good night, Attano,” he says when nothing better comes to mind. “Thanks for the adventure.”

 

Snorting, Attano waves him off. “Good night, Daud.”

 

*


	10. 10. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You like him,” his Crow accuses._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Corvo makes a face, turning to face her. “I don't hate him,” he corrects. “He's clearly changed.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is for Dani, Aeniala, lilfayt and everyone else who left such lovely comments. Thank you for your support!
> 
> Dani is still angry with me for this chapter because I made her feel bad for Kirin Jindosh. So warning for Kirin Jindosh feels <3
> 
> You can find me [on tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumbr.com/), I follow back and I'm always willing to have conversations about DH, or anything else I blog about.

“ _You like him,”_ his Crow accuses.

 

Corvo makes a face, turning to face her. “I don't hate him,” he corrects. “He's clearly changed.”

 

The Crow cackles out an annoyed huff, sounding just like Jessamine after a long Council meeting. “ _He killed me,”_ she says mournfully.

 

“Yes, Jess. I know.” He rubs a finger along her beak, ignoring her irritated nip. “He's changed. You changed him.”

 

“ _He brings death to everything he touches!”_ she screams at him.

 

Corvo gives her a level look. “You're being dramatic, my love.” She flaps her wings at him, screeching in disgust and he laughs. “Not doing much better." She fluffs up her feathers in response and turns away. Corvo shakes his head, reaching out and running the back of his finger down her back. "Listen to me," he urges gently. "Emily trusts him."

 

The Crow shrugs him off, hissing. " _The past haunts him,_ " she admits grudgingly, " _Can he ever atone for the things he's done?_ "

 

He looks away, out the window, focusing on the Aventa District. "Jess," he murmurs. "Don't be a hypocrite." She whirls on him, shrieking a denial, and he holds up a hand. "Can I ever atone for the lives I took in my search for answers?" he asks her, still not looking. "How many people did I kill, trying to open a hole in the Void large enough to pull Emily out?"

 

She nudges him, voice soft. " _None of them were me._ "

 

Corvo looks at her. "No, they weren't. But can you tell me that if you were still alive, you would have approved of my actions?" She falls silent, head drooping down. "That's what I thought."

 

" _There is so much regret in him,_ " Jess says and Corvo can't read her voice.

 

Raising one eyebrow at her, Corvo presses a kiss to the top of her feathery head. "Then will you stop trying to kill him when he walks through the door?"

 

She doesn't have a chance to respond as the Crows outside all scream in unison, alerting him to a visitor coming up the path. Moving swiftly he tugs on his mask, barring the door to the rest of the warehouse closed. It wouldn't do for the Crow King and the Angels of Karnaca to be seen together, after all.

 

To his disappointment, Luca Abele storms through the door, three Elite Guards at his heels, with a much beleaguered Jindosh behind him. "You're the one they call the king of crows?" Abele snaps out, and Corvo inclines his head.

 

His Crow screeches an agreement, leaping from the table to fly around their heads and lands on one of the sills. Her quick flight and loud shriek clearly startle the guards, all of whom reach for their pistols. Corvo lets himself smile, giving the expression too many teeth. "I promise you," he says softly, "you don't want to go for your weapons." It makes them falter, and Corvo turns his attention to Abele. "Lord Luca Abele," he says, and doesn't bother to change his expression. "What brings you to my doorstep?"

 

Luca's eyes dart to the left and right, and he looks nervous. "This man behind me, Kirin Jindosh, he had an accident. His mind is broken. You will fix it."

 

"Oh, will I?" Corvo asks, and tilts his head down to look Abele over. "I make no promises."

 

He steps neatly around Abele and looks at Jindosh. "Crow!" Jindosh greets with a vapid smile. "I... You have my mask. I made it just for you." He reaches out for it, fingers instinctively going for the catches on it.

 

Corvo catches his fingers gently. "Hello Kirin," he says, and lowers his hands to the table. "What happened to you?"

 

Jindosh's smile fades. "I did something bad," he whispers.

 

Abele suddenly blusters his way between them, waving a hand at Jindosh's face. "Now, now, there's no need to tell the Old Crow here the whole story," he says, face turned up in a terrifying smile. "Suffice it to say, he got tangled up in one of his machines."

 

Corvo sets his jaw. "If you cannot be helpful, you can go, Lord Abele," he says calmly, and two of the three guards take a step back. "Kirin and I have worked together before, I do not require a translator." He lets a little of the Void bleed out of him, turning his tattoos a shining silver, and that's enough for the two guards. They bolt, backing up and hitting the glass windows before escaping outside.

 

His Crow screams a challenge, one that's echoed by the flock outside, each bird adding to the cacophony until the windows are nearly vibrating with the screams of the dead. "My- my lord," the third guard says, grabbing Abele's elbow. "This is not a man you want to anger," she says, hissing it.

 

"He is still a man," Abele says. "If he won't help, he'll still die as one."

 

Jindosh ambles forward, stumbling a little. His innate grace gone from him as well as his mind. "Crow," he says mournfully, holding his temples. "It hurts... I used to... I remember... It's all gone."

 

Despite Corvo's extreme annoyance with Jindosh for kidnapping Anton Sokolov, and his working with Luca Abele's strange plans, he almost feels bad for the poor fool. "Sit," Corvo offers him, leading him to one of the armchairs.

 

Jindosh sits quietly, and smiles vapidly up at Corvo. "Can you fix it?" he asked, and Corvo is glad for the mask that hides his wince.

 

He turns back to the single Elite Guard left and a nervous Luca Abele. "You two," he growls, using the Void to give himself a bit of an echo. "Outside."

 

The Elite Guard goes immediately, joining her brethren outside the glass windows, peering in at them nervously. Abele hesitates, sweat beading on his forehead and temples. "Now, I won't have you hurting this here man," he says, blustering and more annoyance than anything else.

 

Corvo's rising irritation pings through the crows, and they scream it down at Abele and his men. Abele's nerve visibly dies and he disappears out the door, letting it slam close behind him. "You weren't really going to... Hurt them, were you?" Jindosh asks, a fuzzy sort of concern wrapped around his slurred vowels. "Luca's my friend. He helps me."

 

Kneeling in front of Jindosh, Corvo pulls his mask off to look the inventor in the eye. "Kirin, what did you do?" he asks.

 

Jindosh leans in close, mustache pressing against Corvo's cheekbone. "I took him," he says, "I took him and I tried to make him talk but I couldn't get him to. He just ignored me. My inventions..." he trails off. "He didn't care about my inventions."

 

"You mean Anton Sokolov," Corvo says, keeping his voice neutral.

 

Smiling again, Jindosh nods, pressing his temple to Corvo's. "Yes... I wanted to... If you use the copper wire... And the mini.. Minur... Mina... Tiny tanks..." he stops, an expression of brief pain and uncertainty flashing over his face. "It's all gone."

 

Corvo pulls away, cradling Jindosh's face in his hands. "Can I look, Kirin? Will you let me?"

 

After a slight hesitation, Jindosh nods, closing his eyes. "I trust you," he says.

 

It's the work of a second to activate his Mark, sliding into Jindosh's mind. It had taken him years of practice to refine his Outsider given Possession power to look into people's minds. It isn't easy, and it drains him something fierce, but occasionally it helps. Jindosh's mind though, it's a ruin.

 

Great swathes of thoughts are simply gone, leaving hollow, roaring echoes in their wake. Pieces of his former genius remain, flaring with manic speed and dying just as quickly.

 

Corvo can speed physical healing, prevent plague and pregnancy, but this... Nothing can fix this; not even magic. He reaches out with immaterial hands and gathers the pieces of old genius and combines them, smoothing out the aching holes with as much magic as he can spare.

 

With a twist, he steps back, reforming back in front of Jindosh. "I'm sorry Kirin," he says softly. "I did what I could."

 

"I will never invent again, will I?" Jindosh says slowly, consideringly.

 

"No," Corvo answers him. "You won't."

 

Jindosh nods, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It shakes, and he makes no effort to hide it. “You... Um.. You tried."

 

Corvo chews on the inside of his lip for a second before speaking again. "Kirin, you know I have great respect for your work - but what in the bloody forsaken void were you thinking, kidnapping and torturing Anton Sokolov?"

 

Jindosh's expression crumples a good bit before it smooths out. "I wanted his advice but he wouldn't help. He refused me. Me!" Corvo raises one eyebrow, staring him down and Jindosh looks away. "The Clockwork Soldiers would have revolu-- revalu-- changed the face of war as we know it."

 

"And you would have ruined a great man to do it," Corvo says quietly.

 

"He was an old washed up mind," Jindosh snaps, and Corvo snarls under his breath. "It would have worked!" he insists. "Crow, it would have worked."

 

Corvo cups Jindosh's face again, letting him rest forehead to forehead. "Kirin, what is the one thing everyone says about me?" he asks quietly.

 

"That you know everything," Jindosh says, and two tears drop from his cheeks to Corvo's.

 

"Yes," Corvo says gently. "I promise you, it wouldn't have worked." Jindosh shudders against him but Corvo is relentless. "I need you to hear me, Kirin. You tortured a brilliant, innocent man just to further your own creations with no thought to his health or his sanity."

 

Jindosh shakes his head, trying to pull away but Corvo holds firm. "No, no... Nonono.. No."

 

" _Yes_ , Kirin. You almost ruined him. You would have doomed him to this, what you are living right now." Corvo pulls away at last, letting Jindosh huddle in the seat. "I can give you a bone charm to help your focus," he says, putting his mask back on. "But it won't help you get your mind back." He climbs to his feet, moving to his completed bone charms and finding the one for focus.

 

"Crow," Jindosh says, and Corvo turns around to find him only a foot away. "Do you know where Sokolov is?"

 

"I know everything, Kirin," he says tiredly, and presses the charm into Jindosh's hand.

 

Once the charm touches Jindosh's skin, the void lights up behind his pale eyes with an eerie glow. "Crow," he says again, in tones of his normal self. "Do not trust Luca Abele."

 

That makes Corvo smile, and he touches the long beak of his mask with two fingers. "Don't worry, Kirin. I had no intentions of doing so."

 

Jindosh reaches out and snags his left hand, pressing his thumb against Corvo's Mark. "No," he insists. "I know what you are, Crow. You are no mad thing. But the witch that Luca follows?" A haunted look passes over his face. "I was besp- bewiz- charmed. Do not trust him. Do not trust Deli-Delil-- Do not trust the Empress." He tucks the charm away, and the Void shines clear and blue from his eyes before the effect dies away. "Thank you, for your help, old Crow."

 

"You're welcome, Kirin," Corvo murmurs as the man weaves his way out of the warehouse. Jess flies down from the sill and lands on his shoulder, pressing her sun warmed head against Corvo's cheek.

 

" _He walks a broken cliff side_ ," she murmurs. " _One day, he'll fall off._ "

 

"Yes, my love," Corvo agrees. "I know."

 

*

 

Corvo stares up at the ceiling, Emily's even breathing doing nothing to soothe him into sleep. His encounter with Jindosh that morning had left him uneasy.

  
  
He rolls on the bed, coming face to face with the Outsider.   It's only from sheer practice that Corvo doesn't yelp.

 

The Outsider's lips lift very slightly in a smile. "Hello Corvo," he says quietly. Corvo grunts, moving over on the bed so the Outsider can sit on the edge. "She prays to me," he says as he takes Corvo up on the unspoken offer. When Corvo does nothing but raise an eyebrow, the Outsider gestures to Emily, sleeping soundly and facing away from them. "It's quite sweet," he muses. " _Dear Outsider, please let Daud and my father stop fighting_."

    
  
Corvo snorts, nudging the Outsider with his knee. "She does not," he grumbles.

 

The Outsider flicks Corvo in the hip in retaliation. “She does, every night before she succumbs to sleep.”

 

Corvo grunts, waving the Outsider's hands away. "That doesn't really surprise me," he admits.

 

"I can't say that I answer prayers," the Outsider comments thoughtfully. "Granny Rags prayed to me daily - hourly, I suspect, I stopped listening to her long before the Bottle Street Gang robbed her of her life - but little Emily? I don't even need to answer her prayers," he says. "If I'm not mistaken, you and Daud ran off together and no one even died. I'm very impressed, my dear."

 

Giving up, Corvo sits up in bed, sitting cross legged and facing the Outsider. "No, no one died. But we just ended up with more questions."

 

The Outsider smirks, tilting his head to one side. "And Jindosh! His mind taken by the whalers for his deeds, and you felt badly for him."

 

He shrugs, looking over where Emily sleeps. "I did," he agrees. "He was broken, and I had no business making that worse." He chews on the corner of his lip, thinking over his next question. "Outsider... What do you know about Delilah Kaldwin?"

 

If he hadn't been looking for it, Corvo wouldn't have noticed that the Outsider stills, ever so slightly at the name. He wouldn't have noticed that the deity's expression goes faintly cold. "Delilah Kaldwin," he drawls, and pulls away from Corvo. "And where have you heard that name before, my Corvo?"

 

"Breanna Ashworth mentioned her, as did Jindosh," Corvo answers, eyes narrowed. "Please, tell me what you can."

 

"Delilah Kaldwin learned cruelty at an early age, and spent the years of her life following learning how to cultivate it," the Outsider answers distantly. "She was a painter, a witch, and a brilliantly cunning creature who utterly fascinated me."

 

Corvo quirks an eyebrow. "I notice the usage of past tense there."

 

The Outsider rolls out an indolent shrug. "Like most of my Marked ones, she grew obvious and predictable and boring. And like with Granny Rags, and numerous others, I let her free to do as she pleased."

 

"And... How long did that take?" Corvo asks, watching the god's face carefully.

 

"A year," the Outsider answers quietly. "It took just over a year for Delilah to do nothing but bore me."

 

It's stupid to point out, and he knows it, but Corvo can't help it. He knows more about the void than most, knows how it changes and how it stays the same. "Outsider," Corvo says slowly. "It's been five years since you Marked me."

 

The deity is silent for a long moment, staring off into a distance only he can see. "Has it?" he asks, a strange note in his tone. "Time does pass quickly here, doesn't it."

 

Corvo narrows his eyes. "Really."

 

"You are singularly fascinating, my dear Corvo. You never make the same decisions twice, you sit here in the home of the man who killed the woman you loved, you drowned in blood to save Emily, but then turned your life around, and here you are, helping anyone who asks." The Outsider turns slowly to face him. "You have not bored me yet, my Corvo."

 

"And when I do?" Corvo wonders. At the sharp, severe scowl the Outsider levels at him makes him wish he hadn't asked. "You have to admit," Corvo adds, "Someday I'll age, Outsider... I'm already old. I'm forty-four, I'm running out of time for rooftop heists and sulking through sewers. Someday, perhaps even soon, and I'll be too old and too broken to fascinate you anymore."

 

"You'll one day age," the Outsider agrees, leaning forward to push Corvo's hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. "Someday you'll be an old witch at peace with the world. I have Marked hundreds of souls in my time, my Corvo. Most of them lasted only a handful of years before I lost interest. Some of them wanted me too dearly, others just grew complacent. But you have never asked me for anything, you've never given me prayers, nor demonstrations of devotion. I have waited four thousand years to Mark someone like you."

 

Corvo snorts softly, then again when the Outsider frowns at him, offended. "Four thousand years?" Corvo repeats. "I thought you were older than the stones I was standing on? I'm pretty certain they're older than four thousand years."

 

The Outsider pushes him.

 

Chuckling, Corvo grabs the edge of the bed to keep from falling over. "Don't ask a god his age, my Corvo," he says primly. "It's rude."

 

Shaking his head, Corvo shoves back lightly. "Do you visit Daud like this?" he asks.

 

"No," the Outsider answers immediately. "The last time I spoke to Daud was five years ago, after he killed Jessamine, and how the fallout affected him. It fascinated me."

 

Corvo rolls his eyes. "I really hate that word."

 

"Lies," the Outsider comments without breaking stride. "So I went to him, to see if he could do what no one else has - return to being interesting after twenty years of boring me." He gestures to the room around them. "Except then he turned around, moved to a different city, and... Started doing exactly as he had been, only with less murder. Boring."

 

Corvo sighs, leaning back against the wall. "So I really am the only one you've spent this much time with."

 

The Outsider tsks, chiding Corvo with a half smile. "Jealousy doesn't become you, my dear."

 

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it," Corvo says, throwing his pillow at the Outsider's face.

 

Holding the pillow on his lap, the Outsider laughs softly. "I have allowed you more liberties than I have allowed any other. I danced with Vera once, under the moon during a masked ball, and that moment painted her perception of me until she breathed her last. But you... I held you as you cried over your lost daughter and instead of obsession, you simply thanked me."

 

"No one else cared," Corvo says.

 

The Outsider offers a sad smile, pressing his knee to Corvo's. "Yes well," he says lightly. "I had some experience with the notion."

 

Corvo pauses, pressing his knee to the Outsiders. "You've spent so many of the last five years listening to me and my woes. Tell me."

 

Still sporting the same sad smile, the Outsider murmurs, "I struggled at first, but it just made the ropes around my wrists grow tighter. My hands were slick with blood, or maybe it was water, I don't remember anymore. Up until the very end, I thought I could escape, until the knife touched my neck and I... Ran out of time." His eyes flicker, black and blue and his mouth twists. "The blood ran out and I became a god."

 

"They did it against your will?" Corvo asks, aghast.

 

"I was no one, my Corvo," the Outsider whispers, his voice an echo. "A forgotten boy from a forgotten world who no one ever cared about or lo..." He cuts off when Corvo's arms wrap around his skinny shoulders, pulling the Outsider in close for a tight embrace.

 

The Outsider submits to it for half a second before Corvo's arms suddenly close on air and he finds the deity across the room looking discomfited. "Not the hugging type, I take it?" Corvo asks gently, sliding back to his side of the bed so that there's space for the Outsider.

 

"That was unexpected," the Outsider says. "It has been some time."

 

Corvo looks over at Emily, her face still relaxed in sleep. "You're wrong by the way," he says lightly. "You're not forgotten, nor uncared about, or unloved at all. And even if you don't want to remember that boy who died to become a god, then I will."

 

There's another long pause and when Corvo turns away from his sleeping daughter, he finds that the Outsider has vanished entirely. Smiling a little to himself he lays back down, pulling the covers up to his shoulder. "Good night, my friend," he murmurs, and closes his eyes.

 

Cool fingers slide through his hair, and dry lips press to his forehead. "Good night, my Corvo."

 

He sleeps, and his dreams are empty and calm.

 

*


	11. 11. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Before Daud can sigh and ask for clarification, a loud clatter sounds from the other end of the courtyard. “Crow!” bellows Paolo. “Get your Outsider damned bird off my fucking head, or I swear to all you hold dear I’ll be eating it for dinner!”_
> 
> _Laughing to himself, Corvo still manages a fairly piercing whistle and the Crow sails back to his shoulder, feathers fluffed and preening. Paolo stomps into the room, making his way around the bar and scowls at them. “Hello Paolo,” Corvo says warmly._
> 
> _“You’re a fucking choffer,” Paolo growls mutinously._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dani, on vacation. And lilfayt, and Aeniala and Nemi_Thine, for all your beautiful reviews, support and ability to make me smile. 
> 
> As ever I can be found [on tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back and love conversation!

"When are you meant to see Theodanis?" Corvo asks, leaning a hip against his worktable, sorting through his completed bone charms.   


"Tomorrow," Daud mutters, leaning his head on the table in front of him. He hates meeting their clients and supporters - he usually makes Thomas do it, but Theodanis has been irritatingly insistent that he'll only deal with Daud himself. "Why?"

 

Corvo chuckles, patting Daud on the shoulder in a way that seems more amused than conciliatory. "Because I had a visit from Luca Abele and Kirin Jindosh yesterday afternoon while you were out."

 

Daud sits up, staring at at him. "You what?!"

 

"Mm," Corvo says non-committal, with a slight smile. "Abele wanted me to fix Kirin's mind, something that is beyond even my power, and Kirin, despite his madness, warned me away from 'The Empress', Delilah Kaldwin."

 

Daud frowns to himself, looking Corvo over. "And Abele didn't do anything to you?"

 

Corvo's shrug is expansive. "He threw his threats around, but I'm a hard man to kill. Or frighten." His bone charms are cleaned off the table and he hands Daud one that feels familiar. "Here, yours."

 

"Thank you." Daud runs his fingers over it, feeling out the innate magic in it. "This will increase my reflexes?" he asks. "What's the catch?"

 

"No catch," Corvo says, his small smile curving up into genuine amusement. He reaches across the table, folding Daud's fingers around the charm. "This will speed your reflexes, and it won't make your teeth fall out or your bones brittle."

 

"You didn't have to do this," Daud insists again, even as he tightens his grip on the edges of the charm. "Not for m--us."

 

Corvo's smile widens and he shakes his head. "Stop looking for reasons to hurt yourself, Daud," he says kindly. "I'll finish the others over the next few days." He pulls over his stool, perching next to Daud. "I asked our friend about Delilah," he says suddenly, making a small gesture with his left hand.

 

Daud snorts, shaking his head. "I'm sure the black eyed bastard had more cryptic nonsense to spout at you instead of actually being helpful."

 

"He..." Corvo hesitates. "He said she learned cruelty at a young age and that he Marked her many years ago though she's since ceased to be interesting."

 

That's more than Daud expected anyone to get out of their patron. He leans his arms over the table and turns to face Corvo. "I have to ask," he says, and Corvo tilts his head in question. "Are you fucking the Outsider?"

 

Corvo laughs.

 

He covers his face with one hand, leaning with the other as his shoulders shake and he chokes on a cackle. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you," he says, still chuckling. "It's just... No. I am definitely not fucking the Outsider."

 

Daud frowns at him, strangely offended. "He tells you things, and you're always talking to him. It was an honest question."

 

Still amused, Corvo grins at him, a dimple digging into his left cheek. "It was rank gossip and you know it. We're friends, as much as one can be friends with someone who is four thousand years old and also the reason you have magic powers." Corvo nudged him with a shoulder, jostling him. "I am however, definitely not sleeping with the whale god of the Abbey's nightmares, put that thought out of your head and feel free to make sure the rest aren't thinking it either."

 

Daud nudges him back. "It never even crossed your mind?"

 

Corvo dips his head down to meet his eyes. "Has it crossed yours, because I'm getting the impression it might have."

 

"No!" Daud pushes Corvo's shoulder, causing him to overbalance on the stool and get to his feet, laughing again. "Absolutely not."

 

"In all seriousness," Corvo says, though he's still smiling, "I think of him a little like I think of Emily. He's not my son, and I'm certainly not his father, but we take care of each other, as best we can." His smile turns a bit melancholy. "I suppose I'm too old to be thinking of taking a lover now. That game is for young men with hearts still able to mend."

 

Daud frowns at him, feeling a pang that spreads from his sternum through his rib cage. "I'm older than you are," he points out.

 

"Not by much," Corvo says, smiling again. "I loved Jessamine with all my heart," he says softly. Daud can't hide his flinch, and the pang in his chest turns into a dull ache that throbs with his heartbeat. "No," Corvo says, putting his right hand on Daud's shoulder. "I don't bring this up to cause you pain. I will always love her - and I'm lucky enough that she is still with me, even today. I suppose I've never searched for someone else."

 

"You could," Daud says.

 

Mercifully he's stopped from saying more as the door to Corvo's workshop flies open and the Howler girl comes in, eyes lighting on Corvo immediately.

 

"You!" she cries, a manic grin stretched from ear to ear. "Crow, you absolute fucking delight!" She strides around the table, grabbing the collar of Corvo's cloak and hauling him towards her. Daud is a second from transversing behind her to disable her, when she drags Corvo into a kiss.

 

Daud looks away, until the kiss goes on for so long that he gets irritated with the Howler girl. He turns back to see that Corvo has cupped her cheek with his bare hand, and but is otherwise not encouraging her enthusiastic ministrations.

 

When she pulls back from the kiss, she immediately wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I take it that I helped," Corvo says, his voice warm and amused. "And I told you not to kiss me, Min."

 

"Couldn't help myself," she says. "I was overcome."

 

Something twists in Daud's stomach; it burns like shame but it curdles like jealousy.

 

"Min," Corvo says, and the fond amusement in his voice strikes at something low in Daud's spine. "Mindy, this is my friend, Daud. Daud, meet Mindy Blanchard, the second in command of Paolo's Howlers."

 

Mindy wraps an arm around Corvo's waist and leans across the table to offer Daud her free hand. "So you're the one that the Crow left me for," she drawls. "I suppose I can forgive you, he is ruggedly handsome."

 

Corvo's eyes go wide and he shakes his head. "Mindy!"

 

"I'm afraid you have the wrong impression," Daud drawls. "He came here for his daughter, not for me."

 

Mindy clicks her tongue and prods Corvo in the side, ignoring his yelp. "You should probably get on that," she points out. "I won't wait for you forever, old Crow!"

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Corvo groans, "Mindy, I'm literally old enough to be your father."

 

She tips him a wink. "I'm serious, Crow. It's been a Void damned miracle back at the Pub, I swear. Oh, the boy still annoys the fuck out of everyone moping around but I haven't found any more letters, and he doesn't stare anymore. Caught him asking Paolo where I am when I'm literally two feet away. It's brilliant. You're brilliant. I might kiss you again." Corvo looks so alarmed by that prospect that Daud stands before he realizes he's going to move and Mindy's manic grin only widens. "Down guard dog," she says.

 

When Daud looks over at Corvo, his grey-blue eyes are strangely accessing and Daud looks away again. "I'll leave you two be," he grunts. "Crow, we should talk tomorrow morning before my meeting."

 

"Of course," Corvo says, but the expression in his eyes hasn't changed. "I'll see you here beforehand then."

 

Daud nods once and escapes the room, he can hear Mindy Blanchard's laughter long after he closes the door.

 

It’s not until after that, when he realizes Corvo had introduced him as his friend, and there had been no hesitation in his voice at all.

 

*

 

Daud goes to his meeting with Theodanis with a heavy heart. He, Thomas and Corvo had spent four hours that morning, beginning in the hours before dawn, going through all the information they had gathered. Thomas had procured an array of silvergraphs that he’d pilfered from Jindosh’s mansion, all confirming that Luca Abele had been complicit in the kidnapping of Anton Sokolov. Rinaldo and Rulfio had gone and gotten eyewitness testimonies from various guards, as well as Corvo’s own about Abele carting Jindosh around after his ‘accident’.

 

Then, with a thick dossier in hand, Daud had been sent off to the Palace by his second in command and the witch he’d somehow managed to befriend.

 

“Ah, Daud,” Theodanis says, and his smile is sad and knowing. “I assume you have some information for me?”

 

Daud really, really wishes that Thomas had been the one to conduct these meetings. He slides the dossier towards Theodanis, pressing his lips together. “This is everything we found over the last two weeks,” he says roughly.

 

Theodanis slips his fingers under the top of the folder, fine tremors visibly running through his hands and he drops them to the table, leaving the dossier unopened. “I know that I must, but I cannot bring myself to look,” he says, bitter and weary. “He is my son.”

 

“He helped Kirin Jindosh kidnap and torture Anton Sokolov,” Daud says. “He’s also complicit in whatever is going down at the Royal Conservatory. It’s not a mite infestation, Duke. It’s witches.”

 

Pale as a sheet of paper and nearly transparent, Theodanis sits hard on his throne, the tremors in his hands having graduated to full body shivers. “I wish I could disbelieve you,” he says. “But I can’t, can I? No Duke should be so blind to the goings on in his city, and no father can forgive these betrayals.”

 

Supremely uncomfortable, Daud clears his throat. “I don’t know what you want my men and I to do now…?”

 

Theodanis sighs. “For now, your men and the Crow King should lay low,” he instructs. “Don’t disappear, but keep your heads down and do what you have to in order to stay safe. I’m going to have to do something drastic to regain some order here.”

 

He does not like the sound of that. “Like what?” Daud asks, alarmed.

 

“Like do a thorough house cleaning of the Grand Guard,” Theodanis says. “And arrest my own son for treason. And, despite knowing what I know about yourself and our mutual friend, I need a stronger Overseer presence in the city. I’ll install them in the Campo Seta Dockyards, between the harbor and the Addermire Carriage House.”

 

Daud pulls a face. “I’ll warn the others,” he says.

 

“Do, yes.” Theodanis flips open the dossier and winces. “You did stellar work, Daud. Your payment will be as promised.”

 

He nods. “Thank you, Duke.”

 

Theodanis sighs, looking down at one of the silvergraphs. “Sokolov, I assume he’s well and within your care?”

 

“My men brought him to Addermire where a compatriot of the Crow’s and Alexandria Hypatia are working on a cure for the Dunwall Plague,” Daud reports. “It seemed the safest place for him, where he can be useful and forget what he underwent under Jindosh’s care, and also get the medical attention he needs - if he needs it.”

 

“You’ve done more than expected,” Theodanis comments gratefully. “Thank you for that as well. I don’t know who the Abbey will send to us - there have been strange reports coming out of Dunwall but when I find out, I’ll warn you as well in advance as I can.”

 

Daud nods once. “I’ll await your word,” he says, and sensing that the audience is over, tranverses away, landing on a nearby roof. His landing scatters crows every which way and he scowls down at the nearest one. “Really?” he asks. “Did you think I was going betray you or that he was going to betray me?”

 

It blinks once and then enlarges so suddenly that Daud yelps and leaps backwards. The crow turns into the Crow, and Corvo gives him a rueful smile. “Neither, to be fair,” he says wryly. “I expected Luca Abele to somehow hear of it and that it would end in blood.” He grins, that dimple returning to his left cheek. “Emily asked me to follow you, and how could I say no?”

 

“Easily, I expect,” Daud says, cross. He shoos away several of the loitering birds. “I suppose you heard everything?”

 

“Overseer presence, yes.” Corvo’s smile fades and he looks pensively over the roofs out towards the Batista district. “We should go talk to Paolo. He’s going to want to know about that.”

 

Resigning himself to yet more rooftop transversals, Daud nods. “I’ll follow you.”

 

Together they transverse across the city, with Corvo once again in the lead. They make it to the Batista district and Corvo drops lightly down to the cobblestones, walking boldly into the entrance square. The Grand Guard make themselves scarce as soon as his mask comes into view, and Corvo shoots Daud a small amused grin.

 

A quick jaunt through the area leads them straight to a pub with graffiti drawn all over it. The area is largely abandoned with a single guard at the door. He’s a great hulk of a man with shorn blond hair and a craggy scar that runs from his temple, over his cheek and jaw and down his neck to disappear into his coat.

 

“Iacopo,” Corvo greets, stepping out of the shade. “Guard duty again?”

 

The guard looks up and beams, revealing several missing teeth. “Crow!” he says, and thumps his chest. “Still wear!”

 

Corvo glides up to him, fingers light as air on the jacket of the Howler. “I’m glad to hear it. No more pains?”

 

“No,” the man says with a thick sounding accent clinging to his voice. “No hurt.”

 

“Good,” Corvo says. “Is Paolo within?” he asks, gesturing behind the Howler.

 

Iacopo scowls, gesturing sharply to Daud. “No enter.”

 

Corvo’s mask covers the upper half of his face but Daud gets the impression that he’s frowning. “Paco,” he scolds, but gently and with a half smile. “This is man is my friend.”

 

That’s the second time in an as many days that Corvo has called him a friend without hesitation or distrust.

 

“No enter,” the guard insists. “No know.”

 

“I’ll vouch for him,” Corvo says. The guard continues to look unconvinced. “Paco, would I bring an enemy here? To this place where we are safe?”

 

Iacopo sighs. “Fine. Enter. No bad business.” This last thing he directs at Daud who is content to bow in agreement.

 

Together they pass, with Daud sticking close to Corvo’s shoulder. “What’s with the guard?” he asks, as soon as they walk through a narrow hall and into a courtyard.

 

“Iacopo is North Serkonan, never managed to learn much Gristolish. He understands it, mostly. He’s a good man, if a bit rough around the edges.” Corvo leads them right to the bar under a deep awning, sitting on a stool. “My love?” he asks, and Daud startles.

 

The Crow lands on his shoulder and squawks at him, and Corvo just laughs. “Warning would have been nice, bodyguard,” Daud grumbles, getting the feeling they're laughing at him.

 

“It’s much more fun my way,” Corvo answers. He turns to look at the Crow. “Go find Paolo for me?”

 

Daud’s shoulder aches faintly where her talons dig into him but she takes off again without ripping clothes or drawing blood. Considering she used to attack him whenever he came too close, this is legions better. “So, Paolo,” Daud says when the silence between them grows tight, “is he like us?”

 

“Not… quite,” Corvo answers. “His left hand is clean.”

 

That surprises him. “Then why are we warning him about…?” Daud asks.

 

Corvo grins over at him, the crow mask much less sinister in candlelight and lanterns. “I said his hand was clean, not that he was normal.”

 

Before Daud can sigh and ask for clarification, a loud clatter sounds from the other end of the courtyard. “ _Crow_ !” bellows Paolo. “ _Get your Outsider damned bird off my fucking head, or I swear to all you hold dear I’ll be eating it for dinner!”_

 

Laughing to himself, Corvo still manages a fairly piercing whistle and the Crow sails back to his shoulder, feathers fluffed and preening. Paolo stomps into the room, making his way around the bar and scowls at them. “Hello Paolo,” Corvo says warmly.

 

“You’re a fucking choffer,” Paolo growls mutinously. “What do you want and why is he here?”

 

“We have some news from Theodanis,” Daud says.

 

Paolo stiffens, just enough that Daud feels the familiar itch to go for his blade. Corvo shifts his body weight slightly, pressing his shoulder into Daud’s. “Theodanis is reaching out to the Abbey,” he says, like he hasn’t leaned most of his body weight into Daud’s. “He wants more of an Overseer presence in Karnaca due to the fact that we found witches in the Royal Conservatory.”

 

The Howler swears long and loud in vicious Serkonan, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “What are the rest of us supposed to do?” he asks harshly.

 

“Theodanis suggests we lay low,” Daud says, trying to keep his tone from being too doubtful.

 

Paolo gives him a venomous look that tells him just what the Howler thinks about that prospect. “This isn’t the end of the world,” Corvo says, pulling his mask off. “You’re hardly an active user, but I think it would be best if we had a safe place we could meet up in case the Overseers end up edging too close to our prospective territories.”

 

“Yes, I agree,” Paolo says. “Where did Theodanis say he was going to install these lickspittles?”

 

“The Port,” Daud answers. “By the Addermire Carriage House.”

 

Relief flits across Paolo’s face. “I suppose that’s something,” he says. “That’s a good distance from us, and for you.”

 

Corvo nods, and he leans closer to Daud to lower his voice. “Truly, the problem won’t be for you, if you manage to keep your head down. The problem is that if anyone asks a local where they can find heretics, they’ll all be firmly placed at my door.”

 

“The Crow is always welcome here,” Paolo says, and Corvo nods in thanks. “But I imagine that won’t be enough, if the Overseers are truly out for blood.” He leans around the corner and whistles a sharp tune. “Mindy!” he barks, “get me a map!”

 

A moment or two later, Mindy slinks into the bar area with a rolled up map resting on her shoulder. “Crow,” she greets. “Crow’s friend.” She drops the map in front of them,  helping Paolo spread it out. “What’s this I hear about Overseers?”

 

Corvo gives her a sympathetic smile. “You should probably move your tattoo shop,” he advises. She pulls a face but nods in agreement. Corvo leans over the map, marking their respective places of residents with shot glasses. “We’re here, and you’re here,” he says, tapping the map. “If the Overseers will be installed here,” he uses a larger whiskey glass to encompass all of the harbor, “then we should have a safe haven as far from them as possible, considering they divide us.” He gestures to the mountains.

 

Daud points. “What about the Clemente Quarter?” he asks. “It’s blocked off from most of Batista by the Sihrocco Current, and the only way to get to it is through Batista Overlook. We can meet by Docherty’s Rock near the Pointe if things go wrong.”

 

“We’d need a boat,” Mindy points out roughly.

 

“We can get a boat,” Paolo says easily. “The transportation wouldn’t be an issue, it’s keeping in contact.”

 

Corvo looks doubtful but he says, “We could use the crows?”

 

“Unless you trained one or two of them to actually carry messages, then the only one who can understand them is you,” Paolo responds.

 

Daud thinks for a second, remembering his own systems from Dunwall. “We could use the beggars and the urchins,” he says. “But that limits us to each district.”

 

Mindy nods to him. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll gather some of the little ones and start the process. Paolo you have family in Clemente, could they help?”

 

“With enough warning? I expect so. Alright. You two should get out of here, the less we’re seen together the less likely they are to draw conclusions. Corvo, shut down the bone charm distribution you’ve got, and Daud, you’ll have to insulate your men more. I’ll send you a message when things are settled on our end.”

 

“Stay safe you two,” Corvo says seriously, and he hooks a hand around Daud’s hip, tugging him towards the door.

 

They’re silent as they leave the Batista District and catch a carriage to the Aventa Quarter. “I’m sorry about that,” Corvo says slowly after they’ve gone a short distance away from the station. “Emily told me you dislike being touched, and I didn't even ask, back there.”

 

Daud regards him curiously. His mask is fixed back in place, hiding most of his expressions, but the set of his mouth is apologetic and sincere. “It's true, I dislike most touch. Was there a reason for your closeness?”

 

“Paolo and Mindy may take your presence in stride, but some of the others are… let's call them enthusiastic.” His mouth turns down in a frown. “I wasn't overly worried they'd shoot you, but on the chance, your proximity to me would stop them.”

 

“Because they'd be afraid to hit you?” Daud asks dryly.

 

“No,” Corvo says. “Because it made you mine.” There's a beat of silence to that where Daud entirely doesn't know how to respond and Corvo clears his throat awkwardly. “So I apologize.”

 

Daud thinks of the warm line of Corvo’s form pressed to his and looks away. “It's fine,” he says gruff and uncomfortable. “You didn't bother me.”

 

Corvo’s response to that is to pull his mask up onto his forehead, revealing grey and worried eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, “Our friendship is new and strained enough as is. I would hate to make it worse.”

 

Snorting, Daud waves him off. “Is that what we are?”

 

Corvo blinks a few times at the question. “I thought we were getting there,” he responds slowly. “I can't forget our past. But I can forgive it. I thought I couldn't, the weight of her death will always lie heavy on us both. But Jessamine as she was, she would have forgiven you too.”

 

Daud stares. Corvo smiles, the same amused grin that digs a dimple into his cheek. “You… are a singularly trying person,” Daud sighs.

 

“Is that your way of saying we're friends?” Corvo asks, and his cheeky tone is all Emily’s.

 

“I'm going to throw you out of this railcar,” Daud threatens and Corvo laughs.

 

“I'm going to take that as a yes,” Corvo says and nudges his knee against Daud's.

 

Daud nudges him back. “To answer your other question, no, you didn't make me uncomfortable. It's true that most touch is unwanted and I appreciate your concern for my sensibilities, but it was fine. I'll be certain to tell you if I dislike something.” He smiles a little, not quite a grin. “Probably with a fist in your face, if I'm being honest.”

 

Corvo chuckles. “I'll endeavor to avoid that,” he says.

 

They finish out the railcar drive in silence. Corvo’s knee is still pressed to Daud’s, a comfortably grounding weight.

 

Daud presses back.

 

*


	12. 12. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Just be careful, Daddy," Emily says solemnly._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _He grins down at her, winks. "Always."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, Aeniala, lilfayt and Nemi_Thine. And a special thanks to everyone who keeps reviewing and sticking with me :)
> 
> <3
> 
> As ever, you can find me on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), I follow back and love to talk to people. Come say hi :)
> 
> Warning: angst, torture (little bit). This is were the plot finally begins to get a move on. Coming around the bend <3 #HoldOnToYourButts

It's taken him four weeks, two days and six hours but Corvo has finally gotten through the corrupted bone charms left by the Whalers. Eradicating any and all corruption had been quite the endeavor, and Corvo had taken his time with it. Some of the whalers (Daud included) would carry the scars of their usage for the rest of their lives.

 

Corvo gathers up the last of the charms, the ones belonging to Thomas and Kita and Blinked over the wall towards the roof of their warehouse. With work suspended until the Overseers have finished their 'investigations', the Whalers tend to congregate in the sun or wherever it's warmest and most comfortable.

 

He finds them both there, Thomas sitting cross legged on the edge of the building while Kita and the rest of the women - including Emily - lounge in the sun. "Daddy!" Emily cheers when he appears beside her. Corvo smiles down at her, ruffling her hair.

 

"Em," he greets. "Thomas, Kita, I finished your bone charms," he says, and goes to hand them to their respective owners. "Thank you for your patience."

 

Kita peers at it, turning it over and over in her hands. "And this does exactly what it did before?" she asks suspiciously.

 

"Yes," Corvo answers, not rising to her hostility. "So long as you are standing still, your enemies will see you as a shadow. However it no longer makes it so your energy doesn't regenerate." Half stepping, half Blinking towards Thomas, Corvo hands him his. "And yours, which will no longer cause scarring."

 

Ruefully Thomas rubs a red ridge of hard tissue that bisects his right eyebrow and part of his cheek. "So I'll get to keep my pretty face?" he asks, with amusement.

 

Chuckling, Corvo nods. "Yes, Thomas, you can still be pretty."

 

He turns to go back inside but Thomas catches his shoulder. "You don't have to hide inside your workshop all day," he says. "I think we're all aware that you're not going to kill us in our sleep, Master Corvo. You're welcome to stay out here with us."

 

"I appreciate the offer," Corvo says, touched. "But I told Daud I'd go to the Market for him, since the Overseers from Dunwall are still crawling all over the place. My face as it is won't garner much attention, unlike Daud." He looks around the assorted whalers. "Does anyone want me to pick them up anything?"

 

Kita smirks from her position in the lounge chair. "Some more kohl for make up," she says. "And whatever the apothecary has for moon cramps."

 

Feeling faintly like he's being tested, Corvo keeps his expression even. "Of course, Miss Kita. Anyone else?"

 

"Just be careful, Daddy," Emily says solemnly.

 

He grins down at her, winks. "Always."

 

Her expression tells him that he's not fooling anyone, but Corvo doesn't give her a chance to complain, Blinking down to street level and making his way through the winding alleys towards the Aventa Market.

 

It's not one of the special days according to the Overseer calendar, so Corvo feels confident that he can pass by their stationed guards without note. Since the entire Cyria Garden is closed to the public after the massacre of the Royal Conservatory, the spillover of Overseers has been nothing short of irritating.

 

Thankfully the Market is busy and he can blend in with the locals, with his dark hair. It's going to be easy enough to get the list of things he needs for his workshop, as well as the things Daud had asked for.

 

He goes to the clockwork smith, slipping into the darkened interior and neatly avoiding the Overseer stationed at the door. “Hello, fine sir,” the shopkeep says. “I hope this day finds you well.” Corvo quirks one eyebrow, tilting his head in the general direction of the Overseer guard. The shopkeep grimaces and says loudly, “Ah! You are here for your special order. Of course, I apologize for not recognizing you, come this way, it’s in the back.”

 

Gamely Corvo follows him, and once the door closes behind them, he relaxes. “It’s become very difficult to shop these days, no?” Corvo asks.

 

The shopkeep sighs heavily. “They scare away most customers most days,” he grouses. “Everyone is afraid after what they did to the Gardens. I understand your hesitance in speaking near them. What can I do for you?”

 

“I need an etching set,” he says. “For metal and bone.”

 

A knowing look crosses the shopkeep’s face. “Bone, hm?” he says, turning and rummaging through some cabinets. “I should have something suitable here.”

 

It takes him a minute but he comes out with a small black leather case. “Thank you,” Corvo says, and presses a bag of coins into his hands.

 

“I’m sure business has been very slow for you too, m’lord,” the shopkeep says, tapping the side of his nose. “Take care of those birds of yours.”

 

Corvo winks, and together they walk back out into the main shop. The Overseer is gone and Corvo feels comfortable enough to set out toward the Apothecary.

 

He gets the tea for Kita without fuss, and walks outside the shop to find it surrounded by Overseers. Their masks are empty, cold things that cause Corvo to tense up immediately.

 

The Overseer in front of him is dressed in red, bareheaded, and smiling. He's broader in shoulder than Campbell had been, and certainly more classically handsome, something Morley born in his features and coloring. "Overseers," Corvo says, laying on a Northern Serkonan accent.

 

The maskless one laughs. "You're the one they call the Crow King, no?" he asks, but it doesn't sound like a real question. "This can go one of two ways, my friend," he adds before Corvo can deny it. "One, you can deny it, and refuse to come with me when I ask you to. That means I'll have to publicly accuse you of Witchcraft, which means I'd be well within my rights to arrest you, strip you naked in front of all and sundry and look for an Outsider's Mark. We're very thorough."

 

Corvo's mouth goes dry. "Or?" he rasps out.

 

The Overseer smiles. "Or," he says, "You agree to come quietly when I ask you to, you come with us to our headquarters and I interrogate you personally. This one is the easy way, by the way."

 

He can probably manage to stop time before either of the Overseers can reach for their magic killing music boxes, can probably manage to Blink to safety before they realize - except this Overseers clearly knows his face and his name.

 

Deliberately relaxing his shoulders, Corvo nods once. "I'll go with you," he says.

 

"Fantastic," the Overseer says. "This way please."

 

Corvo clasps his hands behind his back in a standard military posture and falls into step with them, tightening his left fist once their eyes have slid away from him to focus on navigating the uneven cobblestones of Lower Aventa.

 

As soon as he feels the crows presence, he starts whistling a jaunty tune. It's not quite the same as giving them specific orders, but at least they know where he's going.

 

It takes a fair bit of time to get to the carriage house that connects Aventa and the Campo Harbor District, and Corvo is briefly concerned about logistics. "I hope you understand," the unmasked Overseer says with a rueful smile. "These are smaller carriages than I'm used to. I'm going to have to shackle you, as we ride."

 

Corvo lets the crows go, hopes they understand what's happening, so that the glow in his left hand dies before he holds out his wrists for the Overseer. "Of course," he says, not quite graciously. He keeps the North Serkonan accent, lets them lead him to a carriage, holds his silence as the gears crank and they make their way towards the harbor.

 

"I realize this might seem strange to you," the Overseer says. "You've been living in this country where heresy is as accepted as good drink. You've never had to worry about the Abbey."

 

Corvo manages to shrug as best he's able with his hands bound. "I make salves," he says, "Help with plague and pregnancy. It's not surprising that someone thinks of heresy and witchcraft."

 

The Overseer laughs at him, the sound snatched away on the wind. "They also say that you command the crows."

 

Snorting, Corvo shrugs again. "Crows are smart birds," he says fondly. "Feed them, bind their broken wings, the flock remembers."

 

The Overseer chuckles again, and falls silent for the rest of the ride, which Corvo appreciates. Once the Carriage stops at the gates, Corvo is forced to evaluate his strategy until he can stage his own rescue or one of the Whalers figures out he never came back from the market.

 

The Overseer leads him into the building they were given. "All the way to the top, my friend," he says pleasantly. Corvo walks as straight backed as he can with a man who might be his enemy directly at his back.

 

They climb four flights of stairs before the Overseer takes off the manacles, and brings Corvo to a small enclosed room with an Audiograph in the corner and a table in the middle. There's barely enough room to pull the chairs out to sit, but Corvo is used to slipping into small spaces. He settles himself, hands on the table and daringly places his left hand on top of his right.

 

He meets the Overseers eyes as the man settles himself across from Corvo. "Now that we have some privacy," he says and Corvo can't help the slanted look to the Audiograph. "I won't turn it on unless you confess to something."

 

"I have nothing to confess," Corvo says, frowning and thickening his accent in the way Iacopo does when he gets irritated with the other Howlers.

 

"I'm sure you don't," the Overseer drawls. "You came quietly which I appreciate but after the weeks the order has had, I'm afraid I can't simply believe you at your word. You cover your left arm, including your entire hand. Why?"

 

Corvo's mouth tightens, and he sees the way the Overseer notices. "I have scars," he grunts. "People stared so I covered them up."

 

"May I see?" the Overseer asks. Sighing, Corvo reaches across himself and unwinds part of the fabric away from his shoulder. The Royal Torturer had stripped the skin from his left arm in great swathes, leaving roughly pitted sections on his biceps and forearm. They weren't pretty, or hard to see what had caused them. "They go down to the wrist," Corvo says thickly. "Hand is burned too."

 

The Overseer looks disturbingly fascinated by the marks of torture. "You were incarcerated somewhere," he says. "Those have a distinctly patterned look to them."

 

"Northern prison," Corvo grunts. It's technically true, Dunwall is north of Karnaca.

 

The Overseer smirks. "Yes, I would say that Coldridge is very northern prison." Corvo stills, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "I'm sorry, I have to ask... Are you Corvo Attano?" When he doesn't immediately answer, the Overseer goes on to say, "You look much like him, and to be honest I never believed he died in prison."

 

"Who?" Corvo asks blithely, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"Perhaps you need my name in return? I'm Vice Overseer Teague Martin, and had Corvo Attano survived - or remained - in prison, our first meeting might have been quite different."

 

Corvo smiles thinly, offering his right hand. "Hello Vice Overseer Teague Martin. I am Iapoco, apothecary."

 

Martin tsks, tapping the side of his nose with two fingers. "Ah-ah. Restrict the lying tongue, remember?" he says gently.

 

More assured, Corvo shakes his head. "You have no proof that I am anything. I am Iapoco, and I hope you find your Corvo. I have nothing to confess."

 

But Martin doesn't looked perturbed in the slightest. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair to look over Corvo. "I know that you live somewhere in the Lower Aventa quarter. That Kirin Jindosh came to you for help after his 'accident'," he added heavy air quotes over the words. "I also know that Addermire Institute is suddenly closed from the nobles, a fact that upsets them still." His smile is kind but Corvo knows his eyes are poisonous. "I know that every bone charm my men have found have come from you," he says. Martin leans closer, gesturing with one hand over Corvo's shoulder. "And I know that we have a man in custody who was very willing to tell us all about how Paolo of the Howlers employs a witch named the Crow King, distinctive for his tattoos and his long, black hair."

 

"A confession taken under torture is no confession at all," Corvo snarls.

 

Martin smiles again. "We'll see." He bangs once on the wall behind him and the door flies open, Overseers crowding the room. Panic flares, bright and angry in his chest and his world narrows to reflex.

 

He leaps to his feet, shoving the table with all his strength into Overseer Martin's chest, and sending him crashing against the opposite wall. Corvo ducks under a wild grab from another Overseer, slamming his shoulder into his stomach and using his own momentum against him. He goes down too, and Corvo spins, slamming his elbow into the temple of the Overseer closest to him.

 

The Mark on his hand burns and he knows he's gotten the Outsider's attention. The urge to Blink away is strong, but until they reveal his hand, his status as a heretic is only assumed. He has to make it out of this before he can use his power safely.

 

Hooking the chair with one hand, Corvo shoves it feet first into the Overseer blocking the doorway, driving him backwards and into his compatriots. It leaves a sliver of hall clear to him and Corvo darts for it.

 

Vaulting over the desk, he sees a large glass window revealing a familiar squirrelly Howler, head tipped back at a terrible angle, and blood pooling all around him. He can't grab him now, but after the dust as settled, Mindy can find someone to retrieve his body.

 

On the desk are several objects, and Corvo palms the first stun grenade he finds, turning it on and leaving it in his wake. Bolting at full speed, he makes for the stairs, leaving another grenade at the door. No mask, no weapon, and no back up, he hopes he can make it to a window before the rest of the Overseers catch up to him.

 

The third floor has a fancy office that Corvo ducks into, slipping up behind the Overseer at a table and neatly knocking him out. There's a second Overseer sitting at a desk in the next room, and Corvo holds his breath, takes a gamble and leaps into his shadow, possessing him just before his pursuers round the corner. "Brother!" he shouts to the first one. "He went down to the second floor."

 

The Overseers all leap into action once again and Corvo makes a show of standing and arming himself in order to join them. As soon as the last one is through the door jamb, the spell ends and Corvo takes a step backwards, dragging his hapless puppet into a chokehold.

 

Thankfully, there are floor to ceiling windows, and he pulls one open, before a familiar singing sound gets his attention. One of his bone charms is in the room, and now that the immediate danger is over he can hear it calling to him.

 

A quick search of the desk finds it tucked under several papers and the familiar rib bone and silver curve of it makes his heart catch in his throat.

 

It's Mindy's bone charm.

 

He tucks it into his belt close to his body, and turns to go back to the window when pain slams into him. He can't see, he can't hear anything but thumping discordant music, and every single bit of his not inconsiderable strength fails him.

 

Corvo crumbles.

 

"Ah," Overseer Teague Martin says in delight. "A witch after all."

 

That's the last thing he hears before something slams into the back of his head and his world goes dark.

 

*

 

Corvo's world filters back in slowly. He can smell in the pungent incense of the Abbey, and shortly after he can hear someone praying to his left and to his right.

 

There's light from somewhere but his eyes are bound tightly with black cloth.

 

"You know," Martin says. "I heard somewhere that you can steal people's eyes. My brothers seem to think you do it just by making eye contact, so I hope you'll forgive my crude methods of rendering your gaze harmless." There's a smile in his voice when he says, "All the better to curb your wandering gaze, no?"

 

He goes to speak and finds his mouth full of fabric, pressing hard against his tongue and teeth. "And considering how eloquently you lied to me, my friend, we've taken measures to restrict your lying tongue as well. You can answer our questions by nodding or shaking your head."

 

Corvo snorts out a laugh, and he hopes it conveys just how unlikely that's going to be.

 

He tries to take stock of the rest of him, realizing that his left arm is bare, which means his left hand is too. There's no hiding he's a heretic now. His head aches, and his muscles feel like jellied eels, so whatever that horrible music does to witches, it's certainly nothing to trifle with.

 

The cold back of the chair presses against his back and he realizes his shirt is gone too. At least he still appears to have his trousers on. "Technically that Mark on your hand means I can execute you whenever I damn well feel like it," Martin drawls. "But I want some answers first and the Overseers always get the confessions they seek. This is no Holger Square, but I think you'll find the process somewhat similar."

 

There's a swish of sound to his right and searing, familiar pain strikes at his right arm. The hot poker digs it's point into his bicep and Corvo's mind screams before his body does.

 

He can feel the way his left hand seizes, knows his magic reacts to the pain by the way the Overseers all shout and the horrible, crippling music starts up again. It's like half of his self has been ripped away.

 

"So," Martin's voice says from the other side of the room. "Are you Corvo Attano?"

 

He shudders, but shakes his head. He clenches his left hand, knowing it's useless. _Help me_ , he prays. _Please, I know you must be listening. Help me. I can't go through this again. I_ can't _._

 

The poker presses against the back of his right hand, and the smell of burning meat overpowers the incense.

 

Corvo screams.

 

_Outsider, please!_

 

*


	13. 13. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What’s with them?” he asks Thomas, joining him at the stove._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“Attano left early this morning and hasn’t returned,” Thomas answers quietly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, and lilfayt and Nemi_Thine and brendwell, and especially for everyone who came out of the wood work to comment on the last chapter. I've had an absolute blast reading everyone's theories, so I hope what I chose to go with suffices. You've all been very patient with this cliffhanger, and I love you all.
> 
> As ever I can be found [on tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back and love conversation, comments, criticism, and ideas. Come say hi <3

Daud finishes reading the last of Thomas’ reports just as someone rings the dinner bell. Surprised by his good timing, he tranverses down to the common area. Most of the whalers are there, with a few exceptions - not everyone lives in the warehouse after all - but he’s confused when he doesn’t see Corvo sitting with Emily. It had become his habit since their jaunt to the Garden district, and Daud has grown used to his dry, sardonic presence among his men.

 

Emily instead stands by a window, Kita at her side, and they stare pensively out over the district’s roofs. “What’s with them?” he asks Thomas, joining him at the stove.

 

“Attano left early this morning and hasn’t returned,” Thomas answers quietly. “I believe this is the first time in her life Kita has ever felt guilt.”

 

There’s a hot flash of anger at that, and Daud hastens over to the girls. “What’s going on?” he asks them.

 

“Daud,” Emily says, and her face crumples entirely, going directly to him and throwing her arms around his waist.

 

He catches her absently, eyes intent on Kita. She refuses to meet his gaze, and her shoulders hunch. “I sent him to the apothecary,” she says quietly. “He didn’t come back.”

 

Unease races along his spine, and he tightens his grip on Emily briefly. “He could have decided to lay low somewhere. He has several bolt holes in the city.” But even as he says it, he wonders at its truthfulness. “Hold on.” He brushes a hand over Emily’s hair and she steps back, rubbing her eyes.

 

He transverses down to the first floor, slipping out the front door and whistling the avocet tune that Paolo had taught them. An urchin, barefoot and filthy slips out of the darkness. “Master Daud?” he asks, bracing himself like a startled rabbit.

 

“The Crow King went out into the city, to the main market. He has yet to return. Can you get a message to Paolo, we may need his help.”

 

There’s a gleam of blue bone under the boy’s shirt when he bows low. “Anything for him,” he says quickly. He disappears as quickly as he’d appeared, and Daud stands in the doorway, searching the alley for any signs of movement.

 

The night is heavy, the air thick and warm. Anxiety or humidity, it’s hard to take a full breath of air.

 

Something out there is very, very wrong.

 

He goes back to the common floor and finds that dinner has stalled completely. Thomas has taken the pots off the stove and left them cooling on the counter. There is no laughter, no cheer - no one is eating, and despite their continuous flow of spirits and pear soda, no one is drinking.

 

The heavy oppressive air has found its way here too.

 

Daud sighs, sitting down in the midst of his men. “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he says, but it sounds false to his own ears.

 

Kita bites her lip. “I’m sorry,” she says, and the way the lamplight hits her face gives her scars a sinister darkness. “This is all my fault. I was trying to make him uncomfortable, make him go out and get womens tea for our time.”

 

Some of the men shift awkwardly at the reminder but Emily rolls her eyes. “You do know that Corvo bought that for mother too?” she asks. “It’s not any big thing, back in Dunwall.”

 

Kita shrugs, but the misery only deepens on her face. “It was just a stupid test,” she says.

 

“It was a stupid test that might have gotten my father killed,” Emily snarls and Daud bangs his hand on the table before a fight can break out.

 

“This is not the time to cast blame or throw accusations. Kita didn’t know any better and Corvo could have said no, the point is that he’s missing, not why.” He stands again, agitated. “I alerted the Howlers. They have spies all over the city.”

 

Emily turns back to the window, peering out. Her eyes go black from lid to lid, oil slick like the Outsider’s as she uses the Void gaze. “Daud,” she interrupts, and her voice cracks. “Where are all the crows?”

 

Daud joins her at the window, sharing in the sight and sweeping his gaze over the surrounding roofs.

 

There isn’t a bird in sight.

 

The crows are gone.

 

“Someone get down to the workshop,” Daud barks. “See if the crow who speaks to him in Jessamine’s voice remains there. Now!”

 

The sound of multiple transversals fill the air as half the men disappear in blink, and Daud lets Emily take his hand as they wait for the Whalers to return to the common floor. Two seconds later, Thomas, Rinaldo, Rulfio and Aedan all reappear. “She’s gone,” Rin reports. “Her perch is empty and all the windows are open.”

 

“Oh no,” Emily whispers, and the Void gaze in her eyes dies as tears start to spill over.

 

Daud’s chest tightens with a familiar feeling of worry. “Rin, Rulf, get out there and do some scouting. _Do not get caught_ . Ask around, see if any of the shopkeeps remember a black haired man with grey eyes and tattoos getting arrested today. Stay away from the _fucking harbor._ Go. Now.”

 

Without verbally responding they disappear, but Daud can still hear them upstairs in their shared room, gathering their things. “What do you want the rest of us to do?” Kita asks quietly.

 

“You and the rest of the girls - not you Emily - get out on the roofs. Thomas, take ten of the rest and station yourselves at the carriage houses. Aedan, get to Addermire, see if he went there. Jenkins, Jac, the two of you will stay here with Emily.” He rattles off his orders quickly, hardly stopping to think. “If the Overseers attack, get to Corvo’s old place in the Batista district and make your way to the Howlers, they’ll shelter you.”

 

He’s about to say more when a sound like crackling thunder slams through the room and there’s an outcry of shock and surprise. The room goes slightly grey around the edges, and Daud whirls to find the Outsider standing in the middle of the room.

 

“What the fuck,” Emily says in complete shock as the Whalers who hadn’t already transversed out echo her.

 

The Outsider ignores them all, clearing the space between him and Daud in a few short steps. “ _You need to go,_ ” he says, with none of his usual grandeur. “ _You need to go right now._ ” There’s a frantic, panicked edge to his voice, and his face is twisted in a snarl of grief. “ _The Overseers have him. They’re going to kill him._ _Go! Now!”_

 

The Void slams out of the room as fast as it appeared, leaving the faint scent of salt water and sulfur behind. Daud blinks slowly, turning to the Whalers who haven’t left yet. “Aedan,” he says, “get to Addermire anyway, and have Sokolov and Hypatia prepare a room. Kita, Cici, Emily - you three are with me. We’re heading to the Harbor. The rest of you, get to the Howlers, we need a distraction.”

 

Kita nods and disappears, coming back a minute later with their gear, helping Emily and Cici arm themselves as Daud opens a crate in the corner. It’s been disguised to look like a table, but Daud knows how to open it.

 

Pulling on the whaler’s mask feels like coming full circle. The last time he’d worn this, he’d gone to kill an empress and frame Corvo for it. Now his life has spun around and he’s doing the exact opposite. “You’re really going to take me?” Emily asks, picking up a mask.

 

“Princess,” Daud sighs, “If I don’t, you’ll just follow us anyway. At least this way I can keep an eye on you.”

 

Her face is pale, still streaked with tears, but she smiles tremulously. “Thanks, dad.”

 

She puts on the whaler’s mask, handing two others over to Kita and Cici. Daud stares after her for the barest of seconds, and then all four of them transverse out to the roof next to their warehouse.

 

“Let’s go,” Daud says, voice slightly muffled. He moves to the next roof over, sliding over the stones, when there’s a flurry of movement to his left. He tenses for attack but sharp claws settle on his shoulder, digging gently into the leather padding there. He turns his head to the side, catching the purple glint of Jessamine’s Void purple eye. “I take this to mean you’re coming with us,” he says, chest seizing again.

 

Her claws tighten on his shoulder, and she caws something that sounds like an affirmative.

 

“Fine,” he sighs. “Hold on tight.”

 

He transverses again, to a farther away roof and pauses, waiting for the Crow to adjust. She caws again, wings against the side of his mask and Daud nods once. “Lead on,” he tells her.

 

She screams a battle cry in his ear and Daud leaps off the roof, falling free and catching himself with a well timed transversal, running through a pitch dark alley with nothing more than Void gaze and a crow to see by.

 

There’s a fine patter of feet behind him, and he can see three golden outlines following a step behind him. With only four of them, it takes no time at all to get to the Campo Harbor district, and the crow screams a warning just before they leap over a roof to get to a balcony. Daud holds out a hand, dropping to his belly to crawl and look over the edge.

 

There are two Overseers standing on the balcony, looking in the same direction as Daud. Their masks gleam cold and white in the street lamps. Daud signals to Kita who crouches, ready to leap down and knock their heads together when a bright flash of light blinds them all.

 

The Overseers shriek in surprise, staggering, and a tall woman comes out of the darkness of the street, a crowd of people behind her. “Spread out,” her familiar voice barks. “Get rid of anyone wearing a mask! This is for the King!”

 

Kita drops down in the confusion, slamming an Overseers head into the marble of the building, spinning and kicking the other back. He teeters off the edge of the balcony, landing on the ground only to be shot point blank in the chest by a Howler.

 

Daud transverses down to the street level, steadying Jessamine with one hand. Mindy strides up to him immediately, clapping him on the shoulder. “Daud,” she cries. “I see you have a new friend. Paolo is up the street, he got some of the chemists to come up with something that’s going to light up this fucking city. No one takes one of ours.”

 

Daud nods. “Cici, Kita, go with Mindy and keep the Howlers alive. Whatever you two have to do, do it.”

 

Cici salutes, leaping off the roof and landing neatly next to Kita on the balcony. “Be careful, boss,” she calls and Emily appears at his side.

 

“Thank you,” she tells Mindy who softens a little.

 

“The Crow King is one of ours,” Mindy says. “This Harbor will burn if he’s been hurt.”

 

Daud pushes Emily’s shoulder gently. “Let’s go,” he says.

 

Using the Howler’s as a shield, they run down the street, transversing up onto a nearby roof and through another balcony. Overseers are everywhere, screaming strictures and shooting blindly into the Howlers, their shots lighting up with strange sparkles on the air.

 

The air is thick with Howler dust, and Daud is doubly thankful for their whalers masks now. Jessamine suddenly leaps off his shoulder, soaring up over their heads towards a Balcony just within reach, screeching down at them.

 

Emily looks up at Daud who shrugs. “Might as well follow the lady,” he says, and transverses up to the apartment building balcony.

 

Jessamine, instead of returning to her place on Daud’s shoulder flies into the apartment building where a familiar voice says, “Outsider’s fucking balls, bird, _get off me_!”

 

Paolo.

 

They move into the room, where Paolo is shooing off the crow, who immediately abandons nesting in his hair to resettle on Daud’s shoulder. “Daud?” Paolo asks, one hand on his pistol.

 

Daud pulls the mask up, letting it rest on his forehead. “Mindy told us where to find you,” he says and Emily echoes his move, revealing her pale face.

 

“Shit,” Paolo swears. “This is fucking serious.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, gesturing for them to go to the windows in front of them. “That right there is the building that Theodanis gave the Overseers. I have a few tricks of my own, and I know you’ve got more than your average citizen, but the Overseers have been playing this shit music non-stop outside the door. We need to take them out before any of your men or I can move in.”

 

“I take it you have a plan,” Daud says, when no one in the apartment building moves.

 

Paolo grins, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. “Yes, I do. Her name is Mindy.”

 

There’s an almighty yell from the other end of the street, and with several tiny _fwips_ , Howler dust explodes _everywhere._ Out of the darkness, Mindy, flanked by her crowd of Whalers, lets loose shots of blinding powder, and the tinkling of glass dumps even more into the air.

 

The Overseer’s playing the music boxes falter, then fail, as they begin choking and coughing, dropping their hands from their machines to ward away the dust. “Now!” Mindy shrieks, voice a crescendo.

 

Fire boils down the alley, igniting the dust in the air and setting everything not made of stone afire. As the blaze fills the alley, the crows choose then to descend. Their wings flash through Howler dust and smoke, setting off strange, eerie shadows on the flickering walls. They dip, and wing, stealing Overseers masks straight off their faces, dropping them to break on the cobblestones. When this is over, everyone will know that the Crow King isn't to be trifled with. 

 

The flames lick up the walls, catching on clothing and drapes alike. Dodging crows, the Howlers leap through the flames, breaking the windows of the building and leaping through with savage howls.

 

The music boxes fall, shattered on the ground as the Overseers flee or die from the flames. “Are you ready?” Paolo asks, and the crow on Daud's shoulder shrieks an agreement. “Go!”

 

Paolo shoots him another manic grin, and then the man is gone, and rats boil over the ledge of the balcony into the street, pouring over bodies and stones alike to enter the building.

 

“Let’s go,” Daud says. “Follow my transversal, we want to stay away from the flames.” He aims for a third floor balcony on the Overseers Compound, sliding to a stop behind a half open door. The fire hasn’t reached that high, and considering what it was made of, it would probably die before long, but the Overseers are still running across the room and heading for the stairs to stop the Howlers. He turns to Emily, her face once again covered by her mask. “Stay low and quiet. Your father will never forgive me if I let you kill anyone.”

 

She nods. “I’ll be careful.”

 

Together they slip into the building, using the chaos from the first two floors to hide their footsteps and arrival. “Up the stairs,” Daud murmurs, and transverses straight to the top, peering around a corner and using the Void to look.

 

There are rats everywhere.

 

Daud steps carefully into the room but the rats part helpfully around his feet, scurrying over table, chairs, and empty Overseers masks alike. They avoid Emily and Daud though, and after they scour the whole floor and find it devoid of life, the rats boil upwards, climbing over each other in flashes of brown and white and Paolo stands there, brushing blood off his face. “There are three people upstairs,” he says blandly. “One is probably our missing King.”

 

Daud shakes off his Void gaze. “If I know the Overseers, then one of those three people has a music box.”

 

Paolo’s lip curls. “Fucking animals,” he growls, then tips his head at Emily. “Begging your pardon, Princess.”

 

Emily huffs a sigh. “Let’s _go_ ,” she says.

 

“I’ll follow your lead,” Paolo says, and falls into step behind Daud as they storm the fourth floor. The music hits them full force as soon as they open the door. Emily is flung to her knees, screaming, and Paolo flinches, hand going to his bandoleer and holding his side with clawed fingers.

 

Daud takes two steps, knees buckling under the pressure. He goes to the floor, using the table and desks to pull himself forward. He can get to the door where the music originates from - he can shoot through the pain.

 

The Outsider is counting on him.

 

 _Corvo_ is counting on him.

 

The distance between him and the door grows shorter, and the Crow on his shoulder falls limply to the floor. “Jessamine,” he says, barely audible over the noise. Her head lifts from the floor, Void eyes dull and dim. Her wings beat weakly against his hands, and he lifts her with shaking and failing strength to put her on a desk.

 

He summons the last of his strength, steeling his resolve. He tastes blood, feels it run freely from his nose and ears. The ancient music pounds through him, and the Mark on his hand flickers once, twice, and dies entirely, leaving him with a dull black, useless tattoo.

 

Daud throws himself at the door, pushing it open in one move.

 

The room shakes with the force of the sound. A man in red stands in the middle of it, his back to Daud, looming and lording over a man in a chair. An Overseer stands by the door, playing the hated, painful song.

 

Daud reaches with one hand, grabs his pistol and shoots.

 

The sound is lost over the music, and the blank eyed mask turns to face him like a nightmare come to life.

 

He’d missed.

 

The man in red turns, face covered in a smear of blood that clearly isn’t his and he smiles. How anyone could smile while listening to the pounding pain of song, Daud didn’t think it was possible. He cocks back the hammer on his pistol, holding it up even as weakness flares through him.

 

The Vice Overseer’s grin widens and he steps up to Daud, unafraid, and plucks the gun easily from his hand.

 

His own gun is turned on him, and Daud spits blood. If he’s going to go down, he’s going to go down fighting.

 

The music stops.

 

There’s a short moment where no one moves, no one speaks. The only sound is ragged breathing and a choked, bubbling murmur from the dying Overseer. There’s a shot, loud in the close quarters, and the music box squeals as it too dies.

 

Paolo grabs Daud’s shoulder, Jessamine lands on the other.

 

The Vice Overseer looks comically shocked and he goes for his sword at his side.

 

There’s a dull thunk before he reaches it, and a crossbow bolt quivers in the middle of his forehead, dead center shot. “That’s for my father, you son of a bitch,” Emily says quietly.

 

Daud rises to his feet, stepping around the falling Vice Overseer and Corvo looks up at him, shirtless and bloody. There are burns and lacerations all down his right arm, marring the smooth lines of his iconic tattoos. “Mindy is going to kill you for messing up her work, Crow,” Paolo says from Daud’s side.

 

Corvo blinks, closing his eyes hard enough that Daud can see the lines in his skin from the pressure. He opens them again, silver in the light, meeting Daud’s even through the Whaler’s mask. “You came for me,” he murmurs, and blood spills over his lips as he talks.

 

Daud nods, reaching for the locks on the shackles. There’s really only one thing to say to that. “Of _course_ I did.”

 

*tbc


	14. 14. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I am plenty of fun,” he protests halfheartedly. “I just don’t consider fighting with the Outsider fun.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“I fight with him all the time,” Corvo says, amused again._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dani, Lex, Sasha and Sera (especially because most of you lot went out and played the game just to read this, I love you). For every tumblr anon who asked questions and expressed interest, and especially for all the follows. I am but a very small blog, and your support makes my life. 
> 
> You can find me [on tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumbrl.com), for all your needs. I follow back and I love conversation.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for everything <3

The world takes its time to come back into focus.

 

There are murmured voices all around him, familiar, comforting. Someone is holding his left hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He takes stock of his body, even though his eyes refuse to open. Both his arms are sore in that faded way that tells him he has cuts and bruises. His eyes are sticky, tacky, and he struggles to force them open.

 

He’s also lying on his stomach, and his back throbs and aches with and old familiar pain. Feathers brush the side of his face and he tilts his head into Jess’s side. “Crow?” a startled voice asks. “Are you awake?”

 

Corvo knows that voice. Mindy.

 

“He’s awake?” Someone else asks, as he tries to remember how to speak. Paolo.

 

“Come on, bodyguard,” Daud rumbles right by his ear. “Open your eyes.”

 

Corvo scowls, turning his face towards Daud’s voce. “‘M not a bodyguard,” he slurs out, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

 

“Move, move,” an unfamiliar voice breaks in. “If he is awake, I need to see him.” Corvo manages to pry his eyes open to find an equally unfamiliar face with tiny spectacles staring at him. Corvo tries to flinch back but agony crackles along his spine and he freezes. “Please don’t move,” the man says.

 

There’s nothing he can do but let this stranger run foreign hands on him and Corvo grows more uncomfortable by the second, his left hand curling into a fist. A hand drops down on top of it and he looks over to find that Daud has sat down on the top of the bedside, close to Corvo’s pillow, and laid his hand on Corvo’s.

 

Corvo relaxes his hand, let’s Daud lace their fingers together, and when the doctor - for that’s what he must be - hits a particularly sore point on Corvo’s spine, he grips Daud’s hand tightly.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” the doctor says, sounding distracted. “Your friends wouldn’t let me take any of your blood to check for poison, though.”

 

He’s absurdly grateful for that.

 

“Here, drink this.” The doctor thrusts a red liquid shot through with bright blue into his face, and Corvo drinks out of self preservation. It’s that or choke.

 

Whatever is in the elixir warms him instantly, spreading from his stomach to all his limbs. “Where am I?” Corvo asks, and he feels less fogged. He swallows the thick taste of the elixir away and frowns at the doctor who ignores him. “Daud?” he asks, and he can’t quite make his voice as sharp as he wants it to be.

 

“You’re at Addermire,” Daud answers. “The Howlers and I took you here immediately after we got you out of the building. This is Piero Joplin, and he’s been working with Sokolov to come up with a better elixir for the common ails.”

 

“And the Plague,” Joplin says.

 

Daud rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t cure the plague.”

 

“Yet!” Joplin says, standing quickly and scowling myopically at Daud. “We have some… kinks to work out.”

 

A tide of hysteria wells up in Corvo’s throat. “Did you just give me an elixir that still has kinks to be worked out?” he squeaks.

 

“Just for the plague,” Joplin says, sounding sulky. “Your back and knee will take some time to heal but the rest of your injuries will be taken care of with our remedy.”

 

“You’re scaring the man, Piero,” Mindy growls, and she bullies Joplin out of Corvo’s space. Daud lets go of Corvo’s hand and Corvo turns his head as best he’s able to watch Mindy usher Joplin away. Paolo takes Daud’s place by the edge of the bed, and Corvo relaxes again.

 

“Thank you,” Corvo murmurs and Paolo’s warm fingers curl against the side of his neck. “You didn’t have to come for me.”

 

Paolo scoffs, loud and offended. “Of course we fucking did,” he says. Corvo manages a small smile in response, relaxing against Paolo’s hand. “Taking down those blighted Overseers was just a bonus, Crow. We did it for you.”

 

Mindy’s face fills his vision and she kisses his forehead gently. “Thanks for saving my bone charm even when you were running for your life,” she says lightly.

 

Daud nudges his foot, a warm hand draping itself over Corvo’s ankle. “I’ve never seen my men move so fast,” he says. “You’d be proud of Emily too.”

 

“Emily!” Corvo gasps, her face coalescing in his memory of the night the Overseers burned. “Where is she?”

 

Squeezing his ankle, Daud hushes him. “Easy, easy. She’s here, in a room down the hall with Rin, Rulf and Thomas. They finally got her to sleep a few hours ago.”

 

He relaxes again though slowly. “What happened?” he asks, trying to piece together the events of the night.

 

“We could ask you the same thing,” Daud says, and his grip tightens briefly on Corvo’s ankle.

 

“They picked me up outside the Apothecary,” Corvo answers him. “They already knew I was the Crow, but I tried to buy myself some time, agreed to go willingly when the Overseer in charge threatened to strip me in the public square to look for Heretical marks.” The fingers on his ankle tighten further and Mindy grabs his Marked hand and holds tightly as Paolo goes off in a tide of angry Serkonan. “I was fine until the Overseer, a man named Teague Martin told me they already knew who I was because they had a Howler who confessed to everything.”

 

Paolo’s stream of angry Serkonan breaks off and he stops, spinning to face Corvo. “Who?”

 

“Adamo,” Mindy answers before Corvo can. “The one who was obsessed with me - he stole my bone charm when I was in the bath.”

 

“Fuck,” Paolo sighs, retaking his place on the bed next to Corvo. “I should have gotten rid of him when I had the chance. This one’s on me, Crow.”

 

Corvo shakes his head as best he can in his current position. “No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful, didn’t have to be. Came back to bite me. Escaped the Overseers, but found Adamo and Mindy’s charm, and then… that _music_. I… don’t remember the rest. Just pain and sound and…” he cuts himself off. “I thought I was going to die.” He blinks once, twice, clearing his vision. “How did you know where I was?”

 

“Daud,” Mindy answers. “Got a message from one of the kids that you had gone missing.”

 

“The Black Eyed Bastard told me,” Daud answers gruffly. “We met up with the Howlers in the harbor and stormed the building. I’m certain that Theodanis is going to have a few things to say about the whole thing, but, considering what was happening to you - I doubt he’ll be as angry as all that.”

 

Corvo closes his eyes. _Thank you_.

 

Paolo squeezes the back of Corvo’s neck gently. “We’ve got some cleaning up to do,” he murmurs. “You rest here, and I’ll be back tonight.”

 

Mindy kisses his forehead again. “Don’t scare me like that again, Crow.”  


He smiles blearily at her. “I’ll try not to.”

 

Once Paolo and Mindy leave the room, closing the door quietly behind them, Daud moves from the foot of the bed to the top, sitting by Corvo’s head. “Kita blames herself,” he murmurs quietly.

 

“She shouldn’t,” Corvo answers immediately, eyes still closed. “They’d have caught up to me eventually.” Corvo opens one eye to look at Daud where he sits at the head of the bed. “Thank you, by the way,” he says.

 

Daud reaches out and brushes Corvo’s hair away from his eyes. “Think nothing of it,” he says quietly. “You’re one of us, now.”

 

*

 

Corvo opens his eyes in the Void, standing on a rock as cool wind buffets him gently. The world is the same as it ever is, endless blue with floating islands and the distant hum of whale song echoing across the rocks.

 

Turning in place to orient himself, he squints to see a far island with a familiar figure sitting in a chair, back to him, shoulders hunched over. A few quick Blinks gets Corvo within shouting distance, but now that he’s closer, Corvo can see that the Outsider is slumped over in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face.

 

Alarm spikes through him and Corvo makes the last few Blinks at top speed, sliding to a stop a few feet away from the Outsider. “What’s wrong?” Corvo asks sharply, startled when the Outsider’s head comes up so fast that if he’d been human, he’d have done himself an injury. “Outsider?” he asks, when the deity doesn’t do anything but stare at him.

 

“Corvo?” the Outsider asks, still staring.

 

When Corvo had woken up here, a moment or two ago, he’d found himself uninjured and in no pain, and had assumed that the Outsider had played a part in that. Judging by the Outsider’s shocked face, he’d assumed incorrectly. “Yes…?” Corvo says, now very confused.

 

He finds himself with an armful of god, and Corvo blinks in surprise, wrapping his arms around the Outsider in return. They stand there together on the ledge of cold stone, shivering together. “They got to you in time,” the Outsider says, face pressed into Corvo’s shoulder.

 

“They did,” Corvo replies unnecessarily. “I’m alright. More or less.”

 

The Outsider pulls back just enough to look Corvo in the face, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “More or less?” he repeats suspiciously.

 

Corvo quirks a half smile. “You’re supposed to be omniscient, aren’t you?” he teases gently. “Shouldn’t you already know that?”

 

The Outsider gives him an unimpressed look, but notably doesn’t release Corvo from his grip. “It is not beyond the imagining that you passed from the world, my Corvo. Souls move through the Void before moving on, some linger just long enough to seem real.”  


That’s an alarming thought and Corvo shakes his head. “No, I’m quite alive. At least I was when I woke up at Addermire not long ago and realized the extent of my injuries.” He looks down at his right arm, perfect and unmarred in the cold blue light of the Void. “Thank you, by the way,” he adds.

 

“What else could I do?” the Outsider asks, and finally pulls away. He steps back and when he turns to look at Corvo again, all traces of weakness are gone. “You called for me, in your darkest hour.”

 

“You don’t play favorites,” Corvo points out, a smirk twisting his lips.

 

The Outsider sighs, disintegrating on the air and reforming back on his chair.  “We both know how untrue that is,” the Outsider admits.

 

Corvo’s smirk widens into a smile. He knows better now than to touch the Outsider when he’s got his guard up, and instead sits down on the cold hard stone, leaning his back against the leg of the chair that the Outsider sits in. “Well, _I_ knew that,” he says lightly. “Wasn’t sure you were going to admit it though.”   


“What did they do to you, my Corvo?” the Outsider asks, after a lengthy pause.

 

The smile fades from Corvo’s expression and he tilts his head down to look at his hands. “Nothing I haven’t survived before,” he says with forced lightness.

 

A cool hand drops down onto the crown of his head, sifting through the loose strands of his hair. “Coldridge,” the Outsider says unnecessarily and Corvo suppresses a flinch at the name.

 

“Yes,” he responds. “But I’m fine,” he adds when the fingers tighten on his scalp.

 

The Outsider makes a small noise of amusement, not quite a laugh, and says, “Fine is the greatest lie humans have ever told.”

 

Corvo rolls his eyes. “I am,” he insists. “I’ve survived worse, and I will undoubtedly survive it again. I lived, Daud and Paolo came for me and the Vice Overseer who did it is dead. I survived because of you, so stop wallowing.”

 

“Wallowing?” the Outsider says, offended. He flicks the side of Corvo’s head. “I am doing no such thing.”

 

“Uh huh,” Corvo drawls, but subsides when the Outsider’s hand tightens threateningly in his hair again.

 

They sit there in silence, the Outsider combing fingers through Corvo’s hair, both watching the leviathans float through the Void. Occasionally, the Outsider comes across a tangle or snarl and he works quietly but diligently through it, hardly even pulling on Corvo’s head.

 

Time ceases to exist for them, and the Outsider rests his fingers delicately on the back of Corvo’s neck. “Will you tell me?” he prompts, shockingly gentle.

 

The feeling of phantom hands claws over him for a second and Corvo stiffens. The Outsider immediately returns to carding through his hair, not mentioning the shudders. “They shackled me to a chair,” Corvo murmurs. “Just like the one in Coldridge.” He takes a shaky breath. “They wanted to know my name. I wouldn’t tell them. Martin gagged me, blindfolded me. They played that music on, and on, and on until my nose bled and my ears felt clogged with blood.”

 

His chest heaves with remembered panic, the sensation of not being able to breathe as his nose began to bleed freely, his mouth stopped full of cloth, his tongue too dry to even swallow.

 

Cool fingers cradle his face, and Corvo focuses his eyes to find that the Outsider has appeared in front of him. “You’re not there,” he says firmly, fingers digging into his jaw and at the back of his neck as the Outsider holds him steady. “You are here with me.”

 

Corvo lets himself rest his head on the Outsider’s shoulder. “They used a hot poker, or a brand of some kind on my right arm - the left is already mangled, he said, why not make it a set? - and they tried to burn the Mark - your Mark - off my left.”

 

The Outsider held the back of Corvo’s neck in gentle hands. “I imagine they didn’t like the reaction to that,” he murmurs with quiet satisfaction.

 

Corvo smiles a little. “The fire turned back on them,” he agrees. “But then they got angry, truly so, not the affected Overseer act.” He took a deep breath, willing himself not to feel the sting of the whip. “They gave me forty,” he says, clinical and blank. “Ten for the lies, ten for the heresy, twenty for attempting to escape custody.”

 

Hissing an angry breath, the Outsider tightens his grip on Corvo, unnaturally strong. “And they call me the monster.”

 

“They were interrupted,” Corvo says, abrupt and anxious. “You have to know that. They were stopped.”

 

The Outsider pulls back, black eyes solemn. “Tell me,” he requests.

 

“When the whipping didn’t cow me, the Vice Overseer, Martin… they began planning on removing my left hand - halfway up the forearm, for better angle and aim. They were in the process of heating up a flat blade to cauterize the wound.”

 

They stare at each other, mortal and god, and the Outsider’s face twists into a expression of such rage that Corvo recoils. “They _dare_ ,” the Outsider intones, and the Void reacts to him, the calm blue darkening to a slate grey.

 

Saltwater and whale song slam around them, and the very ground trembles with the force of the Outsiders anger.

 

Corvo has spent many years in the Outsider’s company - sometimes the Outsider was his only company. He has told him secrets, the ones written into his soul, the ones that only one other knew. He has sat and watched countless sunrises, sunsets and shooting stars with the deity.  He’s prayed and been answered more than any other human in the known world.

 

In many ways, Corvo can easily say that he loves the Outsider, and in as many ways, he can say that the Outsider loves him. But Corvo had forgotten one very important thing: the Outsider loves as a god loves, and no god loves their acolytes being stolen.

 

The Outsider has stood, abandoning Corvo on the ground, as the Void twists into a hurricane around him. He slips through the debris circling the raging deity and stands in front of him. He looks inhuman, untouchable, and utterly without emotion or remorse.

 

Corvo embraces him anyway.

 

The maelstrom ends as soon as it begins, wind fading away to almost nothing, and then resuming the gentle breeze it always sported.

 

The Outsider doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t move, he simply stands and allows Corvo to hang on him. “You are mine, Corvo Attano,” the Outsider says, his voice a deep echo.

 

Corvo smiles, and decides that’s an argument for another day. “Yes,” he agrees. “I know.”

 

*

 

Daud catches him when he stumbles, his knee giving out and sending him to the floor. He struggles for a second, trying to get his leg to cooperate, and grunts in frustration. Daud’s hands are warm on his sides, and they’re pressed back to front tightly he keeps Corvo’s weight off his bad knee. “Take a break, Corvo,” Daud rumbles in his ear. “You’re going to damage yourself if you push too hard.”  


Corvo twists in Daud’s arms, scowling at him. “Would you? Considering what we’re up against, I need to be back in fighting form _yesterday_. I can’t afford to take a break.”

 

But Daud doesn’t rise to his tone, instead he just holds Corvo tighter. “Five minutes,” he requests. “Drink some of Piero and Sokolov’s elixir and then some water. Then you can go back to the bars.”

 

Slumping slightly, Corvo nods. “Fine. But five minutes _only_.” Daud leads him to the arm chair, and lets him settle himself, which Corvo appreciates beyond the telling.

 

“The alchemists say you’re improving quickly,” Daud says when Corvo winces. “You’ll be back in fighting form soon - but if you re-injure yourself on my watch, your daughter will never forgive me.” Corvo snorts quietly, drinking his elixir quietly. He watches Daud’s face when he suddenly blanches, and he tilts his head curiously. “There’s something I should tell you,” Daud says carefully.

 

Corvo raises an eyebrow, now beyond curious. “Go on,” he prompts.

 

Daud sighs. “Emily called me dad,” he says all in a rush. “It was when we were leaving to rescue you, I allowed her to come along to keep an eye on her, because I knew if I left her behind, she’d just follow us anyway. When I told her that, she thanked me… and called me dad.”

 

He digests that, waiting for a surge of jealousy, or envy, but Corvo can’t even muster up similar emotions to that. He sighs, putting the elixir down. “She already intimated to me that you were her father figure,” Corvo admits. “Some time ago before I moved into the warehouse.”

 

Wincing, Daud looks away. “That doesn’t bother you?”

 

“Should it?” Corvo asks bluntly.

 

Daud looks at him like he’s lost his mind, brows furrowed and half angry. “Yes,” he insists. “Of course it should. I took everything from you, and now your daughter too.”

 

Corvo snorts, a small well of amusement bubbling to the surface. “By the Void, you’re more dramatic than our mutual friend,” he says, grinning.

 

Daud looks vaguely offended at that. “I am not,” he protests.

 

“You are,” Corvo says. “Emily finding you a father figure in her life doesn’t take away from me. If anything, I’m glad for it - at least she had you, over the last five years.”

 

He throws up his hands, turning away from Corvo and growls, “I don’t understand you.”

 

Chuckling, Corvo finishes his elixir, reaching for the water kept next to it. “I’ve done terrible things in Emily’s name,” he says, the smile fading. “When I thought she was dead, I tried to tear the world in half to find her soul. I wouldn’t have been a very fit father, back then. I can be glad enough that you took care of her when I couldn’t.”

 

Daud eventually turns back around, gesturing to the bars. “I can accept that,” he says. “Come on. Back to it.”

 

Recognizing the deflection for what it is, Corvo puts the mug of water down, reaching out for Daud’s hand. “Thank you for this,” he adds, as the other man pulls him to his feet. The sentiment is somewhat lost as Corvo’s knee - the one the Overseer had kicked - crumbles beneath his weight again and he collapses straight into Daud’s arms.

 

There’s a seconds pause, as Corvo takes stock of himself. He’s pressed tightly to Daud’s front, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, hip to hip. He’s secure, Daud’s arms are tight around him, holding him still and steady. Corvo moves his arms to drape them over Daud’s shoulders, using his smaller frame to brace and balance himself.

 

He holds himself there for a second, getting his foot under him again and carefully putting his weight on his good side. “Better?” Daud asks, gravel rough and only because of how close they are can Corvo hear the hitch in his breathing.

 

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling away and grabbing the bars instead. “I’m sorry. You’re being very tolerant, this can’t be comfortable for you.”

 

Daud, his ears a strange mottled red, just shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says quietly. “I don’t mind helping you. It’s the least I can do and I’ve been where you are. You can lean on me if you need to.”

 

Corvo smiles, oddly touched. Emily had told him at length how much Daud hates being touched, that he only submitted to embraces when it was important. Corvo had been hanging off of him for days now, with no problems or irritation. “I appreciate what you’re doing,” Corvo says, feeling repetitive. He _hates_ this part of everything; convalescing has always rankled. “You’re making this bearable, in an otherwise unbearable situation.”

 

Daud’s ears turn a brighter red and he shakes his head. “You’re one of us,” he says again. “One of mine.”

 

Laughing, Corvo adjusts his grip on the bars and steps away from Daud, leaning all his weight on his left. “You and the Outsider can fight out _that_ challenge,” he says lightly.

 

Daud snorts. “And what does the winner get?”

 

Thinking about it, Corvo takes another shaky step forward. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “My undying devotion? No, the Outsider would want that more than you. My cooking? Bone charms?” He pauses, turning his head to look at Daud. “Really, now I just want to see you trying to take on the Outsider. Honestly, I’m not sure who’d win that one.”

 

Daud grins, but the dull flush at his ears has crept over his neck and ears. “I’d love to say that I would but I think both of us know that’s not true.”

 

“I don’t know, I think you could give him a run for his luck,” Corvo grunts, taking another few steps. His leg shakes dangerously and he tightens his grip on the bars, relaxing when Daud is suddenly behind him, supporting his weight.

 

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” Daud murmurs in his ear.

 

Corvo leans back, relaxing his arms and letting Daud take his weight again. “No fun,” he says, wiping sweat out of his eyes.

 

He can hear the frown that Daud makes. “I am plenty of fun,” he protests halfheartedly. “I just don’t consider fighting with the _Outsider_ fun.”

 

“I fight with him all the time,” Corvo says, amused again.

 

“I’d fear for my life,” Daud says immediately. “Keep moving, or you’ll stiffen up.” He nudges Corvo’s hip with his own.

 

Corvo gamely takes another step, Daud moving in tandem with him. “If it helps, I’d rout for you,” he says, as they reach the end of the bars. He turns, swiveling on his good leg, facing Daud.

 

Daud grins back, his smile a little lopsided and crooked, but it’s the first time has seen him make the expression. “I’ll keep that in mind for when the black eyed bastard kills me, at least you were on my side.”

 

He helps Corvo back to the bed, holding tightly to Corvo’s arms. They almost make it when Corvo’s knee collapses again, and they both go down.

 

At least the bed beneath them, to break their fall. Daud manages to twist, taking the brunt of the fall, and Corvo blinks down at him, safe and unhurt, perched more or less, on Daud’s lap. Daud’s hands are tight on Corvo’s hips, holding him in place, and Corvo's good leg is bent against the bed.

 

Corvo looks down at Daud, who seems utterly mortified, and realizes for the first time, their absolutely compromising position. “Um,” he says.

 

That is, of course, when Piero walks in.

 

*tbc


	15. 15. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There’s a moment of frozen silence, and Piero clears his throat awkwardly. “If you had mentioned this as a proposed activity,” he says, to Daud’s utter mortification, “I would have cautioned you against vigorous movement this close to Mr. Crows recovery. However, if you two are set on this course of action, there are a number of things you can do to mitigate Mr. Crow’s pain. There are also a few… discrete machines… I could create for your use, until --”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!! 
> 
> For my beloved Dani, and also for my darling Sera. <3 
> 
> After this one, we only have five more left to go. (Don't worry, I've already started the second fic. I won't make you wait long.)
> 
> No real warnings for this chapter, just you know. Piero. Lots of discussion about being ace, sexual behavior (both ace and non-ace). 
> 
> As always I can be found [at Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your Dishonored needs. I follow back and love conversation about anything.

There’s a moment of frozen silence, and Piero clears his throat awkwardly. “If you had mentioned this as a proposed activity,” he says, to Daud’s utter mortification, “I would have cautioned you against vigorous movement this close to Mr. Crows recovery. However, if you two are set on this course of action, there are a number of things you can do to mitigate Mr. Crow’s pain. There are also a few… discrete machines… I could create for your use, until --”

 

“No,” Daud yelps, and Corvo’s face fills with even more blood, his tan skin dark with a blush. “No, thank you, that will _not_ be necessary.”

 

Piero looks disappointed. “Are you quite certain? There are any number of things I could make for you. I used to work for the Golden Cat and I still have many of my designs.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “I don’t suggest intercourse for the time being though, Mr. Daud. If you aggravate Mr. Crow’s wounds -- though I suppose if he were to be on top, his back would be in no danger of tearing.”

 

“By the Outsider,” Daud groans and despite the blushing on Corvo’s face, he starts to laugh. Slowly, carefully, Corvo slips off Daud’s lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, gingerly, holding himself steady with the edge. “We don’t need anything,” he says, voice almost a snap.

 

“I’ll show you some of my designs, perhaps you’ll change your mind,” he says absently, and wanders further into the room, eyes focused on Corvo. “Now, let me see.” He immediately reaches out for Corvo’s face, tilting it down to look at the large lump at the back of his head. “Your head is healing nicely, but any quick movements will still make you dizzy.”  


Corvo clears his throat and Daud can see how tight his shoulders have gotten. “I promise you, Daud has no intention of sleeping with me, especially if I’m injured, considering he went to all that trouble to find me in the first place,” he says, voice rough and dark.

 

Before Daud can wonder at the phrasing, Piero is circling the bed, and pulling Corvo’s shirt off.

 

It’s easy to see that Corvo is very uncomfortable with Piero’s proximity and Daud curbs the urge to loom over the natural philosopher. “Your back is healing quickly,” Piero notes and he sounds almost disappointed. “Within a few more weeks you should be sporting scars only.”

 

Corvo’s lips twist. “Well, what’s a few more,” he says.

 

“Pants,” Piero says and Daud immediately transfers his gaze to the ceiling, giving them as much privacy as possible without physically leaving. Piero is odd, harmless, but he’s not really willing to leave a clearly uncomfortable Corvo alone with him. “Your knee is the worst of the bunch,” Piero notes. “Your joint is suffering from atrophy still.”

 

“Yes well,” Corvo says. “I’m _old_ , Piero.”

 

Piero tuts at him. “You are in remarkably good condition for your age, Mr. Crow, don’t discount your body’s healing ability just yet.” Daud receives a prod in the shoulder from the natural philosopher. “I’m certain if you asked Daud he would tell you.”

 

Daud jerks, snapping his head around to glare at Piero. “What?” he asks sharply. He draws up short when he sees how uncomfortable Corvo is, holding himself stiffly on the edge of the bed, mostly naked, with Piero peering at his legs. He’s still blushing but it’s a dull, embarrassed flush that seems to ill fit his face.

 

“I hadn’t realized before today that you were in a relationship,” Piero says thoughtfully. “Though it makes sense in retrospect. Please keep your physicality to a light minimum, Mr. Daud. Hands and mouths only, no penetration.” He stands and leaves the room, with a parting shot of: “Do keep drinking the elixir, Mr. Crow, you’ll be back to fighting form in no time.”

 

Corvo sighs and relaxes as soon as the door is shut. “It’s like he doesn’t even listen.”

 

Daud shakes his head, standing up from the bed and handing Corvo his clothes. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let his rants wash over you and only responding very occasionally.”

 

“The entire institute and everyone at the warehouse is going to think you’re…” Corvo trails off with a rustle of clothing. “Well, Piero will tell everyone.”

 

“Piero will tell everyone what he thought he saw and the only one who might care is Emily and she knows better,” Daud says simply. Corvo raises an eyebrow at him and Daud shrugs uncomfortably. “We’ve already had that conversation,” he says finally. “Some of the women, Kita notably, have plenty of experience, most of it bad. I spoke with Emily when she had questions because I was… concerned she’d be fed deliberate misinformation.”  


Corvo looks confused for about a second before he grins. “You’re saying you gave my daughter the sex talk,” he says.

 

Daud flinches. “I know now that you live and I apologize if I overstepped.”

 

Instead of yelling at him, Corvo laughs, leaning over and nudging Daud’s shoulder. “No, no, you misunderstand,” he says. “I would have been useless there.”

 

Snorting, Daud shakes his head. “I was useless myself,” he admits. “Trying to explain to a girl that it’s alright to think on people when you’ve never thought on anyone yourself, it’s like explaining philosophy to an idiot,” he says dryly. “You’d have been better suited.”

 

Corvo opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking at Daud consideringly. “Well now I feel like I should apologize for that oxshit with Piero just now,” he says, wry and a little regretful.

 

Daud waves that off. “It’s not the first time someone has thought that of me.” He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head that tells him Corvo’s different - he knows the old Crow is different, that’s been made abundantly clear. “I’m unoffended.”

 

Once Corvo is entirely dressed, he switches from the bed to the wheeled chair that Hypatia had left for him. It’s easier for him to get around when he wasn’t doing his recuperation exercises, though he looked annoyed to be sitting in it. “Wait,” Corvo says suddenly, spinning the chair around to face Daud. “If you had that conversation with Emily does this mean there’s someone she thinks on?”

 

“No,” Daud says quickly. “No, there’s no one. It was in efforts of stopping her from drawing conclusion from Kita’s testimonial about how there are men who will take what isn’t on offer. It was mortifying,” Daud adds, and Corvo snorts again.

 

“Honestly, you’re probably a better choice for that,” Corvo says thoughtfully. “Think of it this way: the only person I’ve ever loved was her mother, I doubt she wants to hear about that.”

 

“Maybe not,” Daud says quietly. “But I’ve never loved anybody.”  


Corvo looks at him for a long moment, grey eyes accessing and open. “Lies,” he says and spins his chair around and leaves the room before Daud can retort.

 

*

 

Jess screeches something when Corvo comes out in the solarium of Addermire. Daud is a step behind him and has to curb the urge to duck.

 

The Crow pays him no mind though, flying over to land on Corvo’s shoulder. They have a quiet murmured conversation - or at least Corvo does - and Daud makes his way over to where Emily, Rinaldo, and Rulfio sit. Rin and Rulf are wearing matching grins, and Daud steels himself for the onslaught he’s bound to get from them. “Alright,” he sighs when all they do is grin, “spit it out. Let’s have it.”

 

Rulf hiccups a giggle, covering his mouth with one hand. “So much for your eligible bachelordom, Daud,” he says.

 

Rin, still sporting a shit eating grin, just says, “Something you want to confess?”

 

Daud sighs, ignoring them both and turns to face Emily. She stares up at him, her dark eyes accessing and so much like her fathers that it makes him blink. “I only have one question,” she says slowly. He raises an eyebrow. “Do you love him?”

 

“Uh,” Daud says, caught wrong footed. “We’re not together,” he finally coughs out. “Piero walked in on an awkward moment, yes, but we weren’t… It wasn’t what it looked like,” he finally said, already knowing that all three of them didn’t believe him.

 

Rin’s shit eating grin only grows wider. “Uh huh,” he says.

 

“I will feed you to the hagfish,” Daud threatens half heartedly.

 

Sniffing once, Rinaldo sticks his nose in the air. “You’d miss me too much,” he proclaims, and transverses out of the way when Daud swipes at him.

 

Rulfio cackles when Rinaldo is forced to retreat and Daud turns his glare on the trainer. “Oh what do I care,” he says. “You do whatever you like, but I’m pretty sure if you break his heart then that crow of his will eat yours.”

 

Emily snickers. “It’s true,” she says solemnly. “She will definitely eat your heart. Mom always hated that she couldn’t openly claim Corvo. If you don’t, she might get hungry.”

 

Daud groans, and gives up the rest of the conversation, deciding that retreat is the better part of valor and makes his way across the room towards Cici and Jacobi. “So,” Cici says, “how’s fucking the Crow?”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Daud says and changes course _again_ to go check on Sokolov and Hypatia.

 

He finds them in the main lab of Recuperation, bickering quietly over the color of some liquid in a beaker. “Ah, Daud, my old friend,” Sokolov says, and he seems more lively than the last time Daud had seen him. “Tell me what color is this?” he thrusts the beaker into Daud’s face and Daud is forced to grab it less it falls.

 

“Red?” Daud asks, more than half a question.

 

“Asking or telling?” Sokolov barks and Daud sighs.

 

“It looks red, but it’s not a pure tone,” he reports with as much detail as he can manage. He’s no philosopher, despite spending a few months at the Academy. “If this is your new elixir, I’d say something still isn’t quite right.”

 

Hypatia makes a considering noise and says, “Perhaps the problem isn’t that my solution and your solution are compatible, perhaps it’s that they aren’t. Have we tried mixing Piero’s remedy with yours?”

 

Sokolov puffs up like a scalded cat. “Of course not, my work is true philosophy! His remedy couldn’t cure a dog of the tempers, let alone the plague!”

 

Hypatia looks so long suffering that Daud has to hide a smile. “It’s the only thing we haven’t tried,” Hypatia says, very gently. “Stow your pride, Anton, and you could be a hero.”

 

Sokolov snarls something in Tyvian that makes Hypatia sigh again. Daud leans over and looks at the vials of elixir strewn about, picking up the different ones. Hypatia’s solution is a lighter blue that Joplin’s remedy while Sokolov’s elixir is a brilliant red. He can see where they’ve been combining the solution and the remedy together and he shakes his head. “You know that the endgame is to cure the plague right?” he asks Sokolov. “The longer you take, the more people will die, and the more likely it is that the plague will make its way here.”  


“Let me do the experiments if you cannot bear to,” Hypatia says, in her airy, breathy voice. “You’ll never have to look at it.”  


Sokolov waves her off, fixing his eyes on Daud. “What I really want to know is why those damnable Howlers refuse to give me entrance to the Crow King’s wing in Recuperation.”

 

Daud shrugs. “The Crow values his privacy. Only a select few can even see his proper face. And Paolo is very protective of his own.”  


“You’ve seen his face,” Sokolov guesses correctly.

 

Lying to Sokolov is a dangerous game, and Daud shrugs one shoulder. “I have, yes.”

 

“Then let me in to see to his wounds. You know me,” Sokolov cajols. “Do you really trust _Piero Joplin_ to heal him properly?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Daud says, “The Crow is healing just fine. Joplin is doing the best he can.”  


Making a disgusted noise, Sokolov turns away. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”  


Daud grins and leaves the room. Most of the Whalers have left the main floor of Recuperation, leaving only Corvo, Emily and Cici. They’re playing a lively game of cards which apparently requires physical retribution, because all three of them reach for a pile in the middle and Emily slaps Corvo away and drags the cards out from under Cici’s hand. “What the Void are you playing?” he asks.

 

“Pandyssian Rat Fuck!” Emily says brightly, ignoring Corvo’s wince.

 

“Pandyssian what??” Daud asks incredulously and when Emily opens her mouth to explain he holds up a hand. “You know what, I don’t think I want to know.”

 

Cici nudges Emily who looks up at her and grins suddenly. “Actually, now that you’re both here, I had some questions,” she says without further preamble. She puts down the stack of cards, placing them into a neat pile. “I know that some day you’ll be giving my partner this talk but I’d be… remiss… If I didn’t give it to you myself.”

 

_Oh no._

Emily fixes him with a glare. “What are you intentions towards my father?” she says. She transfers her gaze to Corvo. “And what are _your_ intentions towards my foster father?”

 

Corvo coughs once, his face flushing dully. He gives Daud a look out of the corner of his eye and says, very slowly, “Emily, Daud and I aren’t together.”

 

Her glare, a fierce thing, collapses immediately and she looks wounded. “What? You’re not? Why not?” It rankles slightly that she immediately believes Corvo when Daud had already insisted this not twenty minutes ago.

 

“You know why,” Corvo says quietly.

 

Emily glances at the Crow sitting on his shoulder, her head tucked into her wing. “Mother would want you to move on,” she says stoutly. “You should be happy!”

 

“I am happy,” Corvo says reaching out to run his fingers through her hair. “I don’t need a romantic partner to be happy. And it’s unkind to tease Daud this way.”

 

She pouts, and to Daud’s trained eyes she looks about a hairsbreadth away from crying. He briefly misses the days when he could kneel before her and be at eye level, though now she's nearly of a height with him. "Emily," he says gravely. "What's all this about?"

 

Emily averts her eyes and Daud waits patiently for her explanation. "Kita always talks about how everyone is out to hurt you. That it didn't matter, women or men, anyone who touches someone else only does it to cause pain."

 

Daud swears viciously under his breath, resolving to have yet another chat with Kita about her words and their impact on impressionable minds. "She what?" Corvo exclaims, face vaguely horrified.

 

"But I told her that you and mother loved each other," she says to Corvo. "And she says that it's only because I was little and I didn't see what it could be like." She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think she's full of shit," Emily says plainly, and both Cici and Corvo snort. "So I thought... If you and Daud could find love, then she'd shut up about how everyone wants to hurt each other." She turns earnest eyes onto Corvo and many a thing has been stolen because of that face. "Daddy, I know what he did - I know that forgiveness is slow and I would never tell you to forget mother. But Daud is a good man, and he's so kind to us. You should give him a chance, and teach him and Kita about love."

 

Corvo sighs, holding out his arms and Emily willingly goes into them, accepting his embrace. It's a little awkward, with Corvo still seated in the wheeled chair, but Emily holds him tightly. "I'm old, Em," Corvo says gently.

 

"Not that old," she says instantly. "And Daud is older..." she winces, looking over her shoulder. "Sorry." Daud waves that off. He knows his age, he feels it every morning.

 

Cici clears her throat delicately, levering herself off the desk she's been seated on. "I'm older than them both," she reminds Emily fondly. "And hearts at our age aren't meant for games."

 

Emily pulls a face, looking between Corvo and Daud again. "Will you at least consider it?"

 

Daud feels a surge of irritation - they've had this conversation, Emily knows how he feels. "Emily," he says, a touch too sharply if Corvo's sudden glare is anything to go by. "We've discussed this before."

 

She subsides, backing away from Corvo's chair and turning to face Daud. "Fine," she says, sounding brittle. "I was just trying to help." She transverses away without saying anything more, the sound of displaced air very loud in the sudden ringing silence.

 

Cici rolls her eyes, flicking Daud in the shoulder. "Oh very well done, that," she says scathingly, and she too vanishes.

 

Daud clears his throat, eyeing Corvo's glare. "I don't have sex," he says plainly. "I have, before. But I prefer not to. Emily and I had that conversation when she asked if I thought on anyone. The answer is no - I tend not to think on anyone, because in all the years that I have, they expect something I'd rather not give."

 

Corvo's glare softens. "Ah," he says. "That's why Emily says you dislike casual touching." Daud nods once, not looking at Corvo, instead focusing on the window. "In that case, I apologize for snapping," Corvo says lightly. "And you don't have to help me with my physical exercises anymore. If I'd known what that rumor would do to you, I'd never have accepted your help." Daud turns around to protest, but Corvo is already wheeling backwards. "No, please. Our friendship is new, and I'd like to keep it amicable. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable, or rather, more uncomfortable than I already have."

 

Daud wants to protest, but Corvo spins the chair away from him. "Corvo," Daud says, and he turns in the chair to face Daud with one eyebrow slightly raised. "I really don't mind helping," he says, because that's the only thing he can think of.

 

"I know," Corvo says, his mouth softening into a familiar half smile. "I appreciate your willingness to suffer under my touch. But it's not necessary, and you have no need for penitence anymore."

 

He disappears into the elevator before Daud can muster up a response to that. He's left alone in the main area, looking out over the atrium when he says, slowly, wonderingly, to himself, "it isn't suffering."

 

It's not a lie - Daud is skilled at bending the truth in all manners of ways but not to himself.

 

Corvo's touches, the casual brushes as they leaned over a rooftop together, or the firm grip on his hands during his physical exercises, they didn't make him crawl out of his skin.

 

Even when he was simply The Crow, and not Corvo Attano, Daud hadn't paid his proximity any sort of mind at all. To date, only three people have ever been allowed to get that close, not including Corvo. The first had been the Outsider, who pulled him up from the mud and blood of slavery and gave him the means to fight back. The second had been Billie, who had huddled in close to him to escape the chasing Grand Guard, and who clung to him even after they'd passed, crying about her lost love. The last had been Emily, who had taken comfort from him like he owed it to her - and he did, in honesty - and he'd grown used to her affection.

 

But the Lord Protector, Corvo Attano, had reached out on a rooftop and grabbed him, stopping his ill timed mis-transversal and held him securely until his feet were steady again. In that same night, he'd gripped Daud's shoulder with strong fingers, and later, pressed their shoulders together. Daud had killed men for less, not long ago.

 

He turns, resolved to go find Corvo and explain... Something... When the world swirls around him and he finds himself in the Void, standing on the ledge of a cliff. He startles backwards when a leviathan swims by, close enough to touch, and low laughter fills the air. Daud sighs, and turns to face the Outsider. "How very intriguing," the Outsider drawls, head tilted to one side in contemplation as he sits on a ledge a few feet from Daud. "A crisis of conscience, and now a crisis of faith. You've had a very busy few years."

 

Daud rubs the back of his neck. "A crisis of something," he mutters but the Outsider clearly hears him. "Why am I here?" he asked, before the god can comment on what he said.

 

"Because you've done what no one else ever has, my dear old friend," he responds. "You've become interesting again."

 

Giving the deity an unimpressed look, Daud scowls. "You cannot possibly be that interested in Corvo's sex life," he says flatly.

 

The Outsider waves a hand at him, a grandiose gesture that conveys absolutely nothing. "I care little for mortal matters of the flesh," he says. "No, it's your heart that I'm singularly interested in."

 

Daud scowls. "My heart is as it's ever been," he says sharply. "Black, shriveled and dead."

 

The Outsider's smug grin widens. "You can lie to Corvo all you like, old friend. But you can't lie to me.”

 

"What do you want," Daud asks flatly. The Void swirls around them, and Daud finds himself face to face with the Outsider.

 

His smug smile has faded into something far more uncertain. It seems out of place on his marble white skin and Daud frowns at him. "I brought you here to thank you," the Outsider says at last. "You retrieved him from the Overseers in time."

 

"You played a part in that," Daud says. "Without your information, we'd have started scouring the city and we may have been too late."

 

The Outsider tips his head to the side, considering. "I can see many futures," he says. "None of them were this."

 

Daud blinks, finally interpreting the expression on the Outsiders face. "Fuck," he says plainly. "You love him."

 

Rolling out an indolent shrug, the Outsider doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "In some ways," he answers laconically. "He is the most interesting being I've ever Marked. What god doesn't love when their creation continues to impress?" The Void whirls them around again and Daud turns to track the Outsider. "What's important is that you found him. Well done."

 

Sighing, Daud gives up that thread of conversation. "You're welcome," he mutters.

 

"One last thing, before you return home," the Outsider says. "Delilah Copperspoon broke herself into pieces once. She only ever wanted the throne, but now that she has it, her eyes are on a different prize." Black eyes meet his, the Outsider's mouth twists into something concerned. "Be careful."

 

The world slams back into him with too much color and light and Daud blinks stupidly at Corvo's startled face. "I didn't expect you to follow me," he says, and Daud looks around.

 

They're outside, on the eastern terrace, overlooking the sea. "Uh," Daud says, since this is well out of range of his normal transversal. "I didn't?" Corvo blinks at him, and he adds, "I had a visit from the black eyed bastard. He must have dropped me here."

 

All the confusion on Corvo's face clears up instantly. "The Outsider pulled you into the Void? Why?"

 

"To thank me for rescuing you. And to warn me about Delilah." He averts his eyes to look out over the water, leaning against the railing. "He warned me to be careful, that she broke herself into pieces. He said she only ever wanted the throne but now she has her eyes on a bigger prize."

 

Corvo wheels up to sit by him. "What could be bigger than Empress of the Isles?" he asks, leaning his elbows on the railing.

 

Daud thinks about it, wonders how the other countries are dealing with her reign. Serkonos hasn't been adversely affected, yet, but Daud attributes that to Theodanis. No one has seen or heard anything from Pandyssia in long enough that he barely counts it. And-- Oh.

 

He turns to Corvo. "The Void," he says. "She wants the Void."

 

*


	16. 16. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That’s all very fascinating,” Corvo says, still wary. “But what does that have to do with me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, my tumblr anon contingent, Estora and everyone else who asked so many thoughtful questions. I appreciate all your support.
> 
> And uh. Don't kill me :)
> 
> As ever I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back, and I adore conversation. <3

Corvo stands, testing the strength in his legs. His knee is still sore, but the weakness is gone, and he stretches and twists in place. The scrape of scar tissue isn't new, and Corvo flexes his right arm. The burns there had healed with a minimal of fuss, and Mindy had promised to touch up his tattoos once he was able to sit under the needle again. 

 

With a rush of relief, Corvo turns and pushes the wheeled chair away with his formerly bad leg. "You seem improved," Daud says, and Corvo turns to find him sitting in the window. Corvo is quietly glad to see him, their friendship had been somewhat strained once Corvo had refused to let him help with his physical exercises, choosing instead to utilize Emily or Thomas. Daud looks him over obviously, and if he were another man Corvo would be flattered at the frank appraisal. 

 

"I am," Corvo says with relief. "I'm very ready to get out of this place." 

 

Daud nods. "The others are back at the Warehouse, and Mindy says she'll meet you there later." He can't quite keep a straight face when he says it, the annoyance clear across his expression. "For whatever reason," he adds pointedly. 

 

Corvo taps his arm where one of the thicker black lines has blurred and softened with healed skin. "She's my artist," he says lightly. 

 

Daud's eyes drag down Corvo's right arm, and he looks away after a second. "I also bring you a gift." 

 

He steps out of the window and Jess flies through, landing instantly on Corvo's shoulder. " _ My love, _ " she caws, nuzzling her head into the hinge of Corvo's jaw.    
  


He smiles, carding gentle fingers through her feathers. "Hello, Jess," he murmurs. "I hope the others took care of you for me." 

 

She fluffs up, settling in the way she always has. " _ She has grown up so well _ ," she says, and Corvo can hear the note of sadness in her otherwise unchanged tone. 

 

"Yes," he agrees. "I know." He glances over at Daud who is studiously looking at the ceiling. "Do I have to talk to Piero or any of the others before we go?"    
  


Daud shakes his head. "Joplin already knows your days here were numbered," he answered. "And if you go anywhere near Hypatia, Vasco, or Sokolov's lab spaces, Anton will never let you leave again until he figures out your identity." 

 

Corvo winces. "Let's avoid that." Daud gives him another lopsided grin, holding out his ash carved crow's mask. 

 

"Brought you this too," Daud says. "We'll have to take the carriage back into Harbor district before we can transverse back to the warehouse." 

 

Falling in step with Daud, Corvo nods, fixing the mask in place. "What did happen?" he asks. "To the district." 

 

"There was... Some damage," Daud says evasively. "Mostly from the Howlers. There were no casualties except for Overseers, and only ones who fought back. Some of them ran when the fight started. And most of them ran when they saw the rats." 

 

Corvo smirks to himself. He's seen Paolo's parlor tricks before. "And Theodanis?" 

 

"Apologetic," Daud reports. "He'd apparently cautioned Vice Overseer Martin about rumors of your existence, and he's disavowed any heretical nonsense to the rest of the Abbey when they came to investigate the carnage." 

 

Sighing, Corvo turns to look at Daud. "More Overseers?" he complains. 

 

"This one is called Byrne," he answers. "Liam Byrne. He's more than a bit obsessed with the Howler's but Theodanis is keeping him under control for now." 

 

They get into the Harbor station, and Daud pauses before letting them both out of carriage. "What's wrong?" Corvo asks warily. 

 

"There's a crowd of people beyond the gate," Daud answers slowly. "They don't seem to be Overseers," he adds when a frisson of alarm goes up Corvo's spine. 

 

He gives half a thought to simply Blinking onto the roof, and escaping any mass crowds - Alexandria gave him her key to her apartment, he could escape through there - but Corvo has made his lifetime of hiding in plain sight. 

 

He unhooks his mask, clipping it to his belt under his jacket, and steps out of the carriage. "Better face them now, then," he says with a smile. 

 

He offers Daud his hand without thinking, and is momentarily horrified at himself for the slip. He can't quite figure out how to withdraw without making a huge deal out of Daud's dislike of touch, but Daud reaches out and clasps his hand to Corvo's, using him to haul himself out of the carriage. 

 

"I've got your back if things turn sour," Daud says, with that same lopsided smile. "And the others are on the roofs, by now." 

 

Corvo laughs, and steps out into the carriage house. "I appreciate your candor," he says lightly and then he turns to face the crowd. There isn't a single Overseer in sight. 

 

The crowd seems to be entirely made up of civilians, and several grand guards. Corvo shoots Daud a confused look, but he gets an equally confused shrug in return. 

 

He steps out into the light and a cheer goes up, and now he's truly baffled. 

 

The girl closest to him, smiles and reaches out a hand so Corvo takes it, holding it gently between his palms. "We're so glad you're alright, Crow," she says, kindly. "Once Paolo spread the word that the Overseers held you captive, we all pitched in to cover your convalescen' fees at Addermire." 

 

Corvo blinks, touched. "You didn't have to do that," he protests. "You do enough for me." 

 

"The Howlers and your people took out the Overseers, made our lives better with your bone charmin' and your potions. Least we could do is protect you from the Overseers once they started asking questions." She smiles wider. "Welcome home, Lord Crow." 

 

Jess screams an agreement and the crowd laughs, dispersing with more chattering. A few people stepped out to greet him as he walked past and once they reached the market, most of the people had gone back to their lives, leaving Daud and Corvo alone. "That was... Odd," Corvo says. 

 

Daud shoots him a small grin. "But not unwanted, I imagine. Transverse or carriage?" 

 

Looking over at the slightly singed building where the Overseers were, Corvo heads towards the stairs. "Carriage I think, better not make more waves after the last fiasco, no?" 

 

They catch the first carriage they see, and Corvo is relieved to leave the Harbor behind. They make the carriage ride in silence, Daud's knee confusingly pressed against Corvo's own. 

 

It's ten minutes to the Lower Aventa District, and Corvo has never been happier to get home. Jess leaps off his shoulder and soars towards their warehouse. 

 

"Crow!" Mindy shouts, meeting them at the Carriage House. She jumps off a ledge and pulls the door open before the Carriage even stops fully, tugging Corvo to his feet and wrapping her arms around him. 

 

He chuckles and returns the embrace briefly before pulling away in order to let Daud out of the Carriage. Daud brushes against him as he passes, but Corvo has no time to think about that because Mindy hauls him towards home, her arm slung around his hips. "Mindy, I can walk on my own, I promise." 

 

"Oh, I know," she says. "But I missed your snark." She laughs at his face, and tightens her grip on him. "You really going to protest this?"

 

He wraps his arm around her waist in answer. "No," he says. "Lead on." 

 

* 

 

Her fingers run over his arm carefully, mapping the new skin and slight scar tissue. 

 

"Well," Mindy says. "It won't be too difficult to fix the lines, but if you wanted, I could probably add a new design... Or five... To your arm and cover the marks entirely." 

 

Corvo thinks it over, twisting his arm in her hands. "How many more hours of work would that be?" he wonders. 

 

"A fair few," she says. "Probably five, in individual sittings." She lets his arm drop to his side and circles back in front of him. "Crow... I'm glad you're alright," she says. "Outsider's eyes, if you'd died..." She scowls. "The city would have burned." 

 

Shaking his head, Corvo catches her hands in his. "Thanks, but I'm a little glad that wasn't necessary." 

 

She chuckles and leans into his space again. "You sure you won't let me tattoo your ass?" 

 

He bursts out laughing, pushing her gently away. "No, for the love of the Outsider, you just want to get me out of my pants." 

 

Mindy leans over and obviously eyes his lower half until he pushes her head away again. "Of course I do," she says. "You are in possession of a fine ass, I've seen you shirtless, and Outsider, your smile." She grins at him, and shrugs one shoulder. "Can't blame a girl for trying. Even one like me." 

 

Corvo gives her a sharp look but doesn't know how to address that without sounding like a fool. "Well," he says lightly. "At least I know you comb your hair." 

 

Snorting, Mindy leans against his shoulder. "You're a good man, Crow," she says. 

 

He chews on the inside of his lip. "Corvo," he says.

 

Mindy looks over at him. "What?" 

 

"My name," he clarifies. "It's Corvo. Corvo Attano." 

 

There's a pause, as Mindy accepts that and then she leans in and kisses him.

 

Corvo has known her long enough to not be surprised by her anymore, and he cups her face with his unMarked hand, holding her gently. He doesn’t exactly kiss back, but he holds her close and when she pulls away, he leans his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “For everything.”

 

She laughs softly, looping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close. “It’s not going to happen, is it?” she wonders. 

 

“No,” Corvo answers. “I’m sorry, Min.”

 

“Ah, it’s fine,” she says, and hugs him. “I knew I didn’t really have a chance.”

 

He frowns at her. “It’s not that,” he says, because he’s known her for five years. “You and Paolo are my best friends,” he adds. “It’s just that…” he trails off, unsure how to continue his thoughts.

 

“You already found the love of your life?” Mindy asks dryly. 

 

Corvo glances up at where Jess is roosting on her perch. “Something like that,” he sighs, and pushes all other thoughts of crooked smiles and broad shoulders from his mind. 

 

Mindy smiles, pushing him with her shoulder. “Fine,” she says dramatically. “Your loss.”

 

“I’ll weep with sorrow,” Corvo says, flat and sarcastic. 

 

She snorts a laugh even as she tries to scowl at him. “I’m getting the impression you’re not being entirely truthful with me, Corvo,” she says. 

 

Placing a hand against his heart, Corvo turns his most winsome smile on her. “Who me?” he asks innocently. “Mindy, I would  _ never _ .”

 

She cackles, throwing her head back. “You would definitely,” she corrects him. “Be careful where you shoot that smile though, eye thief,” she adds with an amused grin. “Otherwise people are going to start calling you heart stealer.”

 

“Pfft,” Corvo says, on reflex. 

 

Making a disgusted noise, Mindy shoves him again. “Repeat after me,” she instructs him even though they both know he’s not going to listen. “I am an attractive, freakishly tall creature who should never smile because it’s my most dangerous weapon.”

 

Incredulous, Corvo shoves her back, keeping a hand on her hip to make sure she doesn’t actually stumble. “I am not repeating that,” he says. “Except for the part about being freakishly tall.” 

 

Mindy pats his cheek. “You were a heartbreaker, I can tell.”

 

“You’re full of shit,” he says sweetly, dodging her smack. 

 

“You don’t believe me?” Mindy challenges, hands on her hips. “You can ask your brooding friend who follows you around like a shadow.” Corvo raises an eyebrow, immediately thinking about the Outsider. “The scarred one, what’s his nuts. Daud.”

 

Corvo blinks at her. “What about Daud?”

 

Staring at him like he’s gone soft in the head, Mindy scoffs. “Like you don't’ know,” she says. When Corvo just stares back, she laughs in a short, sharp bark. “That man wants to climb you like a tree,” she says plainly.

 

“ _ What _ ? He wants to--  _ what _ ? No.” Corvo shakes his head. “Ignoring the fact that you can’t possibly know that, Daud doesn’t do… that.” 

 

Mindy waves that off. “I’ve got eyes, don’t I?” she asks. “I can see it, he never takes his eyes off you. And I’m pretty sure he was detailing my murder when I hugged you out there,” she points. “And I’m definitely sure he was planning my gruesome end when I kissed you the first time in here.”   
  


“And yet, here you are, doing it again,” Corvo says dryly. 

 

“Hey, a girl can dream,” she drawls. “I’m serious about your friend though. He stares at you like you hung the sodding moon.” She nudges him. “You should get on that.” Looking contemplative, Mindy taps her chin with one finger. “Unless you actually hung the moon. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

 

Corvo covers his eyes with one hand, rubbing his forehead. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do… I think… but Daud and I are nothing more than friends. No more, no less.”

 

Mindy’s grin widens. “For now,” she says lightly. She slips around him, patting him on his rear as she goes. “I should check in with Paolo. I’ll see you later, Corvo.”

 

Swatting her hand away, Corvo waves her off, sitting heavily at his work table. Mindy was just exaggerating, telling tales out of school. There’s no way that Daud… no. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

 

*

 

As the sun begins to set, shining golden red light over the entire work space, Corvo comes out of his daze to the crows all screaming a warning.

 

He turns, reaching for his mask and nearly fumbles it in shock as Luca Abele walks into the workshop, alone and without an escort. He fixes his mask and turns the rest of the way around to greet his visitor. 

 

“Luca Abele,” he says cautiously. 

 

But Abele shakes his head. “No,” he says, and he’d be more convincing if he didn’t sound exactly like Luca. “My name is Armando, and I’m Luca’s body double.”

 

Corvo allows himself exactly one second to wish Jessamine had taken up that practice, before he refocuses on the man in front of him. “His body double,” Corvo repeats, keeping his tone blank. 

 

Armando nods. “Yes. I bear an uncanny resemblance to Luca, it’s true. Theodanis took me off the streets and helped raise me, I’ve been trained to act exactly like Luca. Everything he does, I can do.”

 

“That’s all very fascinating,” Corvo says, still wary. “But what does that have to do with me?”

 

“Theodanis went to arrest his son this morning - but Luca fought like a mad thing, he killed six Grand Guards before someone stopped him.” A trace of sorrow finds its way across Armando’s face. “We were friends once, close friends. I could never replace his brother, but for a time, Luca and I relied on each other.”

 

Corvo blinks, tilting his head. “The Guards killed him,” he deduces. 

 

“No,” Armando denies. “He was caught, disarmed and arrested. He killed himself in the cell they were keeping him in - wrote the Empress Delilah’s name on the walls in his blood before he passed. The Guards that found him were paid off, sent to live elsewhere. The only three people in Karnaca who know what happened to the real Luca Abele are you and I, and Theodanis himself.”

 

Making a mental note to see Theodanis, Corvo sits on the edge of his work table. “Why are you here, then, Armando?”

 

“Everyone knows what you are,” he says. “Everyone knows what you can do. I need a bone charm.” 

 

“To do what exactly?” Corvo asks.

 

Armando gestures to himself. “Though I’ve had many years of practice in emulating Luca’s speech, and his demeanor, no one can be perfect. I need a charm that hides these imperfections.”

 

Thinking it over, Corvo nods once, slowly. “It will take some time. That’s a powerful charm and will require more work than the normal ones I usually deal with.”

 

“Of course, take all the time you need. The official ruling is that Luca - I mean.. I… have taken ill. You have until his - my - recovery.”   
  


Corvo pulls out one of the boxes of whale bones, pushing it towards Armando. “Pick one,” he says, turning and pulling out his copper pot. It was the work of moments to set up the ingredients for purifying the bone, and as soon as Armando had chosen a bone, he sent him towards the cabinet with the alcohol. “Choose one of those too,” he adds. 

 

The bone Armando had picked is a circular eye socket piece. Fitting, for a charm that will make the eye slip from any supposed imperfections. When Armando returns to his side, he’s holding a small bottle of Pear Soda. “I don’t drink,” he says sheepishly, when Corvo stares at him. 

 

Shrugging, Corvo combines all the ingredients and sets the concoction to boil. “I’ll have a charm for you in three days,” he says. 

 

Armando nods. “Thank you, Crow. Your help will not be forgotten.”

 

Corvo inclines his head, and waits until the door closes behind Armando before exhaling. “Jess,” he calls, and she flies down from her perch to land on his shoulder. “Go find Daud for me, will you?” he asks.

 

Her Void bright eyes narrow slightly and she shakes herself before taking off and heading into the warehouse proper. Corvo perches on his work table, waiting for the mess in the copper pot to boil. If he’s going to create a bone charm that no one has ever seen before, he needs to be watched. 

 

The Outsider had done it for him in the past, but Corvo has people he can rely on now. He doesn’t need to be as careful with the Void, not with someone there to ground him. 

 

Jess flutters back to his side, nudging him once with the top of her head before hopping down and crossing the table. Daud appears in front of him in a splash of Void energy and displaced air. “Oh good,” Corvo says, pulling off his mask. “You are here.”

 

Daud steps in, close - too close, really, Corvo runs the risk of pressing against him entirely - and takes the mask from his hand. He tosses it onto the table, where it clatters loudly, rolling to a stop next to Jess. “I am here,” Daud agrees quietly.

 

Corvo steps back, but hits the edge of his work table, leaving barely any space between them. A prickle of unease races up his spine and he says, “Are you alright?”

 

But Daud doesn’t answer. He steps in, and Corvo sucks in a sharp breath, as Daud’s chest brushes his. “I’m fine,” Daud says in the same tone. His eyes search Corvo’s but for what, Corvo isn’t sure. 

 

And then Daud is kissing him.

 

*


	17. 17. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Dani, Sera and Es, for all the encouragement. A special thank you to Aeniala for your thought provoking comments, and everyone on tumblr who reached out in various ways to let me know how much they enjoy this fic. I love you all.
> 
> The moment you've all been waiting for: the slow burn is over.
> 
> As ever, I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com), for all your needs. I follow back and I love conversation. :D

Oh  _ shit _ .

 

Corvo startles like a frightened bloodox, but Daud has his fingers wrapped in his shirt. What was he thinking? What in the bloody blighted Void did he expect to accomplish with this oxshit? Corvo’s either going to haul off and knock his teeth in, or transverse away and gut him, and frankly Daud isn’t certain which scenario he prefers. 

 

The kiss is… awkward. The angle is wrong, he’s tilted his head in a strange direction. Their teeth got smacked together, by the Void, this is the stupidest, most ill thought out thing he’s ever done. 

 

And that includes assassinating an Empress. 

 

Mortified, Daud begins to pull away, loosening his fist from the tight clench he’d captured Corvo’s shirt in. He’s about to push Corvo back a step when Corvo’s head suddenly tilts to one side, as though in contemplation. It changes the angle of their lips, and some of the awkward strain eases from the back of Daud’s neck. 

 

Corvo’s hand slides up, brushing the hinge of Daud’s jaw gently with his thumb, before cupping the back of his neck. 

 

It’s a mirror of his hold on Mindy, Daud notes in the back of his mind, past jealousy and panic and idiocy. Except then Corvo steps in, closing the distance between them. 

 

Daud hasn’t kissed anyone in nearly forty years, but he’s reasonably certain that’s what’s Corvo’s doing in return. 

 

They stand there, in the middle of Corvo’s workshop, kissing for what seems like an age before Corvo takes a small half step back, and separates their mouths. He doesn’t let go of the back of Daud’s head, nor does he release his grip on Daud’s hip. He licks his lips, and Daud finally drags his eyes from the space between Corvo’s shoulder and his neck to meet his gaze. “What was that?” Corvo asks, as soon as their eyes meet. 

 

He coughs, uncomfortable. “I know it’s been awhile since I did it, but I’m pretty sure that was a kiss, bodyguard.”

 

“Don’t,” Corvo says softly. It’s phrased like an order but there’s a note of hurt under it and Daud grimaces. “You don’t have to hide or withdraw. I need this to be very clear.” 

 

“I’m not sure how much clearer I can be,” Daud complains. 

 

Corvo purses his lips and a faint streak of annoyance crosses his expression. “Daud,” he says evenly. “What do you want from me?”

 

Mulishly, Daud shrugs. He can’t even think the words to himself let alone say them out loud. “What do  _ you _ want from  _ me? _ ” he asks in return.

 

“A straight answer,” Corvo replies without hesitation.

 

Daud drags his gaze back to Corvo's and he stares evenly. "Nothing about me is straight," he says flatly. Corvo's expression morphs into one of annoyed amusement but he doesn't rise to the bait and Daud sighs. “Fine,” he says. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this, I just know that… watching you kiss Mindy Blanchard hurt in a way I don’t have words to describe.” 

 

Corvo blinks, startled, and his hand tightens reflexively on the back of Daud’s neck. “You were jealous.”

 

“Something like that,” Daud mutters. “Look. I… don’t do this. I’ve never… wanted to do this. But…”

 

Corvo’s thumb brushes over the knobs in Daud’s spine and he relaxes the tension there. “But?” he prompts.

 

“But,” Daud says again, “But you’re… different.” When Corvo doesn’t immediately reply, the spike of panic in Daud’s diaphragm slams into him again and he blurts out, “I know, I know it sounds like a line. I think I’ve been  _ given  _ that line before. But it’s not.”

 

“Alright, alright, it’s alright,” Corvo says, and he sounds like he’s trying to soothe a skittish colt. His fingers tighten slightly on the back of Daud’s neck and Daud finds himself pulled into a loose embrace. “I believe you,” Corvo says, his voice right by Daud’s ear. “I know my regard hasn’t exactly been subtle,” he adds, “but I… what?” 

 

Daud can’t help the way he stiffens slightly when Corvo mentions his regard. “Your what?” he asks, incredulously. 

 

“... Ah.” Corvo lets go of Daud to rub the back of his head sheepishly. “I suppose it was obvious to everyone but you, then.”

 

Daud kisses him again. 

 

Corvo laughs softly against his mouth, correcting their position gently and returning the kiss, pulling Daud close again. “I didn’t know,” Daud says when air becomes an issue and he pulls back. “Or, I didn’t notice.”

 

Smiling, still amused, Corvo nods. “I gathered,” he says. “Since you were honest with me, allow me to be honest with you: I want whatever you’re willing to give. We might not have a conventional start, or even an abnormal one, but you’ve become very important to me. And I’ll follow wherever you want this to go.”

 

“You’re the one with experience,” Daud mutters, and he can feel the heat in his cheeks and ears as he blushes. The light isn’t nearly dim enough to hide it either and it only makes the condition worse.

 

“Maybe so,” Corvo says easily. “But you’re the one who needs to call the shots. I don’t want to do anything you don’t like.”

 

He’s forty-fucking-seven years old, he should not be blushing like a child who hasn’t yet reached adulthood. “I don’t know,” Daud says again, feeling frustrated. “I don’t… really want to be touched, in that way.” Outsider’s balls, he’s an adult, this shouldn’t be so difficult. 

 

“That’s alright,” Corvo says, and he seems so at ease that Daud actually believes him. “Maybe it would be easier instead to focus on what you  _ do  _ want instead of what you don’t.”

 

It’s not, Daud realizes immediately. It’s infinitely worse. “I… liked the kissing,” he says. “Can’t we just… figure it out as we go?”

 

Corvo gives him a fondly amused look and kisses him gently. “No,” he says, crushing whatever kindling hope the kiss gave him. “You’ve already said I’m the one with experience in this, and I can promise you that navigating a relationship like ours is going to be difficult enough without explicit boundaries on what we can and cannot do together.”

 

“Then you tell me what you like or don’t,” Daud snips, feeling uncomfortable and on the spot. 

 

“Alright,” Corvo says easily and Daud hates him a little for his candor. “Come on, let’s sit.” He leads Daud to the two arm chairs shoved in the corner of the workshop, settling in one with his legs curled up, and gesturing for Daud to sit. “It’s been five years since I was with anyone, and I was with Jessamine for ten years. Before that, I had flings, occasionally,” he says easily.

 

“The last person I was with… I was.. Seventeen.” Daud does the math in his head and winces. “Thirty years ago.” 

 

Corvo nods, accepting that easily. “As for things I like or dislike, I’m fairly simple. I like kissing, holding hands. Simple intimacies - I didn’t get to share many of them, so they’ve become much more important to me as of late. I’m a loyal man, so if I am with you then I am with you.”

 

Daud lets out a silent breath. “I.. Yes. For me, as well.”

 

With another devastating smile, Corvo nods. “I do not like being held down,” he says, a note of hurt shivering into his tone. “Or pain, of any kind.”

 

The way he says it makes Daud briefly see red but he manages to nod in agreement. “I wouldn’t like being held down very much either.”

 

“As for sex,” Corvo says it with a straight face and not a flush in sight and Daud sighs. “I’m willing to take whatever you want to give me. If you don’t want me to touch you in a suggestive manner, then I will not. If you don’t want to touch me either - that’s still fine, stop making that face.” Daud can’t help the doubtful frown he makes. “I’m being serious,” Corvo says. 

 

“I know,” Daud replies. “It’s not that I don’t believe you…”  He trails off. "It's simply hard for me to understand."

  
  
Corvo tilts his head, looking like one of his damn birds. "Why? He wonders. 

  
  
"Because normal men have needs," Daud bites out. "Or so I've been told."

  
  
"I'm hardly a normal man," Corvo rejoins. "I am happy when my partner is happy," he adds. "And I didn't think you'd bought in to Kita's nonsense."

  
  
Daud scowls at him. "This isn't Kita's nonsense," he protests. "This is what I was told as a boy. Men have needs, so men fuck. You don't take what isn't freely given but you still want to fuck."

  
  
Corvo levels warm grey eyes on him, a spark of silver in their depths. "Daud, allow me to speak frankly; if you wanted to fuck, I would be happy to let you fuck me. As it is, you don't, and so I will be content with whatever else it is you want."

  
  
Swallowing hard, Daud looks away. "I don't know how to respond to that," he admits.

  
  
"You don't have to," Corvo says easily. 

  
"You're making this more difficult than it has to be," Daud accuses.

  
  
Corvo just smiles, the same blindingly devastating one that digs dimples into his cheeks and makes him look years younger. "Am I? Let me be very clear then. I don't want to do anything that you don't want. If it doesn't make both of us happy, then I don't want it." 

  
  
Daud stares at him. "Even if we never have sex."

  
  
Corvo nods. "Even if."

  
  
Sighing long and slow through his nose, Daud nods. "And you're sure?"

  
  
"I am," Corvo says. "I'll say it as many times as you want to hear it. I like you, Daud. Against everything that I expected, I've come to care for you a great deal."

  
  
Daud laughs, the sound a little too bitter. "Yeah. I didn't... think this was possible. For either of us."

  
  
Corvo's smile widens and he shakes his head. "Are you complaining?"

  
  
"Not really." Daud falls silent, gathering his thoughts. Corvo lets him, watching him quietly. "Intimacies," Daud says, clinging to that word. "What does it mean to you?"

  
  
Corvo chews his lip for a second. "What I'm going to say isn't meant to hurt you, I want you to know that. It's part of the explanation though, and I won't let her spectre lay between us forever. Her voice will never leave me, but her heart will always be my past."

  
  
Daud's own heart goes cold. "Jessamine.”

 

He nods. "There are a number of things that I didn't have a chance to do with Jess." When Daud looks away, Corvo reaches over and turns his head back, fingers gentle on his face. "Not because she died," he says immediately after. "Because we had to be a secret. I couldn't hold her hand in public. We couldn't sleep together in a bed for longer than an hour together. I had to be gone before dawn, because the maids would catch us. I couldn't kiss her in the rain, because we could be seen by guards. When she was being massacred in court or doing functions, I couldn't step in to help unless she was being physically harmed. We had to tell Emily she wasn't allowed to call me daddy because it could be used against her when she came of age. I had to train my own daughter to call me by my given name because of politics." 

  
  
Daud flinches. "And I took her away from you."

  
  
"You did, yes." Corvo uses the fingers still on Daud's face to steady him as he leans in for another kiss. This kiss is sweet, almost tender, and Daud can barely handle it. "But I forgive you, Daud. I forgive you." He kisses Daud again, and Daud shivers against him. 

  
  
"And that's what you want from me?" Daud asks. "To hold hands, and share my bed and wake up together." Corvo nods slowly. "And you don't want to have sex."

  
  
A rueful expression crosses Corvo's face. "If it was on offer? Yes. I would want to have sex with you. I won't lie. But if it isn't? Then if we have everything else? The sex is secondary."

  
  
Daud leans in and kisses him gently, keeping his head tilted at the same angle that Corvo had. "I will... think about it," Daud finally says. "I won't promise. But I'll think about it."

  
  
Corvo smiles, and this expression blows the other one completely away. Daud forgets himself and kisses him again, pulling him in so Corvo is half on his lap. Anything to keep that expression on his face.    
  
A gasp comes from the door to the Warehouse and Corvo turns quickly, standing just in front of Daud. 

  
  
Emily stands in the doorway, both her hands over her mouth, an absolutely delighted expression on her face. "Emily?" Corvo asks cautiously. 

  
  
She squeals, transversing across the room and insinuating herself between them. She climbs right into Daud's lap, but wraps her arms around Corvo and drags him into a hard hug. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She cries. 

  
  
Daud grumbles but holds her steady. "You're far too heavy for this oxshit, girl," he mutters. 

  
  
"Don't care!" She sings. "My dads are together!"

 

  
Corvo glances at Daud over her head but Daud just shrugs. "It's not like she's wrong," he allows and Corvo's smile is like the dawn breaking. 

  
  
Daud is so fucked.

 

*

 

"You're  _ what _ ," Kita says dangerously and Daud narrows his eyes at her. "You know better than anyone what people can be like!"

  
  
Daud stands up, more angry with her than he's ever been in their time together. "Now," he says allowing the threat to show in his voice. "I  _ know _ you're not accusing Corvo of raping me. Or of planning to rape me." He tilts his head consideringly. "Or perhaps you think I'll be the aggressor here. That after sixteen years of time spent with me, you'd consider what we want as rape?"

  
  
Kita goes very pale and she steps back. "No," she says hastily. "That's not what I meant at all."

  
  
It's a lie and they both know it. "Kita, I have allowed quite a lot out of you. Enough that I've turned a blind eye to your nonsense even though it's put some truly ridiculous ideas in Emily's head." 

  
  
Kita opens her mouth but closes it a second later. "I just want to protect her!"

  
  
"I know. I know you do. But Kita, all you're doing is frightening her." Daud kneels in front of where she sits. "I remember what you went through. I'm not unsympathetic to your memories or your scars. But telling a little girl that every man is going to rape her is going to do more harm than good. Especially if you tell her that her father is going to do that to me."

  
  
She sighs, mouth slanting sideways. "I know you wouldn't do that. Maybe I'm not sure about him, but he did raise Em right." Kita looks back at Daud. "I'll stop. It won't make it right, but I'll stop."

  
  
Daud nods once. "Thank you. You can go." He's barely finished speaking before she transverses away.

 

He sighs, sitting in her vacated chair. He’s far too old to deal with this nonsense. It was easier, sometimes, when all they did was take contracts and kill, but… Daud can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the simpler life. 

 

“Sir?” an unfamiliar voice asks from behind him, which startles him momentarily. All the Whalers have been with him for years, he knows the sounds of their footsteps, their voices, the cadence of their breathing. 

 

He twists in the seat to see Pip standing hesitantly in the doorway. Daud blinks, confused. “Pip,” he greets slowly. “What can I do for you?”

 

Pip points towards the lower common area of the Warehouse. “We have a few of the Howlers here,” he says, and his voice is just a little slurred, rather than the harsh staccato of his stutter. 

 

Daud looks at him for a long moment. “You seem improved,” he finally settles on.

 

At that, Pip grins, a huge beaming expression that lightens his face. “Master Crow fixed my bone charm,” he says. “It’s not perfect,” he adds, as the N catches a little. “But with further use, he says my stutter will go.”

 

Considering how much trouble Pip used to have saying his own name, even the few weeks he’s had the new charm have given him nearly one hundred percent of an improvement. Daud stands, ruffling Pip’s hair as he walks by. “Keep up the practice,” Daud advises as they walk down the stairs together. “I didn’t even recognize you just then. That can be an asset.”

 

Pip smiles, looking up at him. “Like when it comes time to steal your key?”

 

Reminded of Emily’s recent dupe, Daud scowls. “I’m going to have to make that test more difficult,” he mutters.

 

“So you won’t let me hug you?” Pip asks, grinning at him. Daud shoves him lightly through the door and he laughs. “Here,” Pip says once he’s gotten his balance back. 

 

Daud nods in greeting to Paolo and his two lackeys. One he recognizes as Iacopo, the huge, surly North Serkonan guard. The other is more slight of frame, a shock of black hair stuffed into a cap being the first thing he sees. 

 

Paolo steps up to clasp Daud’s hand in hello. “One of the street kids came to see us,” he says in greeting. “Said the Crow finished up the last of our bone charms, and said to come pick them up.”

 

Knowing that he left Corvo in a trance for the first half of doing Armando’s trickery charm, Daud hesitates before nodding. “He did, a few days back. He’s working on a charm right now,” Daud adds when Paolo turns towards the workshop. “If you wait another twenty minutes, that’s when he’ll take his first break.”

 

In answer, Paolo drops laconically onto a chair, waving off his minions. “Well, then,” Paolo says grandly. “You’ve met Paco, my favorite guard. And that there is Wyman. My Morley thorn, and favorite sneakthief.”

 

Wyman turns a sunny grin on Daud, dark skin glowing in the late afternoon sun. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

 

“None of it good, I suspect,” Daud answers dryly. 

 

“Eh,” Wyman says, waving a hand up and down. “Some of one, some of the other.” 

 

Daud rolls his eyes. The Mark on his hand burns a little, as someone tries to find him through the Arcane Bond, and Daud activates it, letting Emily through. She appears beside him, stepping out of the transversal like she’s been doing it all her life. “It’s almost time to get dad,” she says, before focusing on the other people in the room. 

 

Iacopo ignores her, his focus on the window to the street. Paolo inclines his head in some kind of courtly half bow. But Wyman, Wyman steps up to her, dropping to a knee and taking her hand. “Princess,” they say, and kisses the back of her Marked hand. 

 

Emily turns a bright, scarlet red. 

 

Alarm bells start ringing loudly in Daud’s head, as Emily stammers out a hello and Wyman’s grin gets wider with every overcorrection she makes.  “You can call me Wyman,” they say, putting an end to Emily’s misery as she tries to thank them without asking outright. “Sir works, if you’re looking for an honorific, by the way,” they add. “Otherwise, just my name is fine.” 

 

That answers that.

 

Corvo comes out of the workshop, eyes bleary, and his hair coming loose from the tail he’d wrapped it up in. He stops, registering the number of people in the room, and his eyes catch on Wyman’s position in front of Emily and their hand on hers. “What,” Corvo says flatly and Emily transverses a step back, disappearing in a flurry of the Void. 

 

“Daddy,” she says, and her voice cracks. “This is Wyman. Wyman is a Howler like Paolo.”

 

Wyman stands up, sweeping off their hat and bowing. “Lord Protector.”

 

Corvo’s scowl doesn’t abate. “Just Corvo is fine, thank you,” he says, eyeing the Howler with extreme suspicion. 

 

Paolo steps into his line of sight, conveniently blocking Wyman from Corvo’s glare. “Bone charms?” he asks, and Corvo waves him into the workshop. Emily lingers just behind him, and Daud can feel her twitching. 

 

Wyman, on the other hand has no such issues approaching her. “Well Princess,” they say, sounding endlessly amused. “Sounds like your father doesn’t like me much.”

 

Emily, still blushing, shrugs. “He’s protective of me.” She shoots Daud a look that he can’t interpret but he moves out of range and watches Corvo through the doorway, as he murmured quietly to Paolo about the stockpile of bone charms he’d had for the Howlers. 

 

He can’t quite hear them, but Daud is content to watch Corvo go through each bone and describe it, hands moving gracefully through the air. Behind him, he can hear Emily giggle at something Wyman says, and Daud muses that they’re all going to be in for a rough time of it.

 

Once the Howlers are gone, Paolo with a sarcastic and jaunty wave, and Wyman with an over the top kiss to Emily’s hand, Daud turns to Corvo. “Did you …” Corvo starts to say as Emily takes one look at his face and transverses out of there.

 

“I saw,” Daud says, feeling amused.

 

“But she…” Corvo protests, as Daud reels him in closer. “You can’t possibly be alright with that.”

 

Daud shrugs, finally getting Corvo in close. “She’s practically an adult,” he points out. “She can make her own choices. Let her be happy, and enjoy her first taste of infatuation at first sight.” He transverses them out of the common area before Corvo can draw breath to reply, depositing them upstairs in Daud’s office.

 

It’s adjacent to his bedroom, but Daud isn’t quite bold enough to transverse directly there.

 

Corvo looks around, and his annoyed expression collapses, going abruptly soft. “Is this your subtle way of telling me it’s late and we should go to bed?” he asks, lightly.

 

Daud shrugs but doesn’t let go of Corvo’s waist. “It is late,” he says. “And you need to sleep before going back to that charm.” He looks away. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before.”

 

Instead of responding to that, Corvo leans in and kisses him, letting himself be lead into the bedroom. Daud feels a curl of apprehension under his stomach but squashes it as they remove their jackets. Corvo still doesn’t speak, which Daud is mostly thankful for, and when they slip into the bed, there’s a second of awkward positioning before Corvo rolls onto his left side and pulls Daud slowly towards his chest.

 

They lay there, in the center of the bed, back to front, Corvo’s knees in the hollow of Daud’s, and their fingers linked over Daud’s chest. “Alright?” Corvo finally asks.

 

Daud relaxes. “Go to sleep, bodyguard,” he mutters.

 

Corvo laughs lightly, kissing his bare shoulder. “Good night, assassin.”

 

*

 

Daud wakes up with a start, over warm and uncomfortable. His left arm is entirely asleep, where he’s tucked it up under the pillow. Corvo’s arm is still draped over him, though they’re no longer holding hands. 

 

He can hear Corvo’s even breathing behind him, and when Daud goes to move, Corvo instinctively tries to pull him closer. Huffing a silent laugh, Daud submits to the sleeping embrace with ill grace. His arm tingles with pins and needles but other than the slight discomfort, he’s surprised he slept so long without nightmares.

 

Corvo mumbles something, still half asleep, and slides closer and Daud freezes. 

 

He’d known this was a terrible idea. He should have thought about it before even getting into the Outsider forsaken bed. Of course this would happen; how could he ever have thought otherwise? He stiffens by degrees, trying not to jerk away which might wake Corvo, or jostle him enough for him to notice his very obvious morning erection and where it presses against Daud’s hip.

 

Corvo yawns, and he moves his arm from across Daud’s waist. “Morning,” he murmurs, gravel rough with sleep. “Did you sleep well enough? It’s a bit warm, I think we may need to open a window next time or risk suffocation.” Corvo begins to sit up, and pauses, obviously noticing something the matter. “Oh,” he says, a cheerful sort of embarrassment in his tone. “Sorry about that.” He leans down and kisses Daud’s shoulder like he’d done the night before and slides away.

 

Freed from the awkward position, Daud flips onto his back and watches Corvo gather up his clothing from the floor on his side of the bed. “I have another eight hour session with that charm as soon as we’ve eaten,” Corvo says as he pulls on his trousers, buttoning himself up without doing anything about what Daud had felt. “And then I’ll have another eight to do - I guess I could do it all at once, but I should eat between them. Will you come remind me?”

 

He pulls on his shirt, leaving it loose at the collar and rolling up the sleeves. “Not a morning person, hm?” he asks, smiling when Daud doesn’t answer him. “That’s alright. I’ll get you some coffee.” He kneels on the edge of the bed and presses a kiss to Daud’s temple before heading for the door. “Be back in just a minute.”

 

Daud watches him go, utterly perplexed. 

 

What the fuck was that? Corvo was supposed to have tried to start something, like everyone always did. He was supposed to have asked, or indicated, or left to the bathroom to ‘take care of it’. Something, anything to indicate that he was unhappy with Daud. 

 

He hadn’t. He didn’t. Nothing Daud has expected has happened. 

 

It means a great many things; but first and foremost is this: Corvo kept his word.

 

Daud can work with that.

 

*tbc


	18. 18. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It was never meant to be this way!” Jess cries, a long mournful sound._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, as ever, for my beloved Dani, Estora, Sera, and Aeniala - thank you all so much for everything. Special thanks to HaleyOakenshield and Brendwell for their messages and support, and all the tumblr anons. (ESPECIALLY THE HOWLER QUESTIONS ANON, THOSE WERE SO MUCH FUN TO ANSWER!)
> 
> *cough* So Uh. #SorryNotSorry.
> 
> Love you all.
> 
> I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/)! I follow back, enjoy asks, messages and listening to people yell about my cliffhangers. <3

Corvo leans against the door to Daud’s - their? - bedroom, letting out a slow breath. That was almost a disaster, he realizes. Daud had been expecting… something, perhaps Corvo going back on his word, or being angry that Daud was so visibly uncomfortable.

He pushes away, running a hand through his hair and lamenting not for the first time that his leather arm wrap had been destroyed by the Overseers. He feels entirely too exposed with his scars on display and his Mark visible for all and sundry.

“Corvo,” a few Whalers greet when he ambles into the kitchen.

“Thomas,” he responds. “Rin, Rulf. Morning.”

Rinaldo grins up at him. “Can’t help but notice,” he drawls. “But you came out of the Boss’s bedroom just now.”

Caught out, Corvo pauses over the mugs, and turns back to Rin. “And?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

Rulfio slaps Rinaldo’s stomach before he speaks again. “Nothing at all, Lord Corvo,” he says kindly. “Just happy the boss is happy, _right Rin_?”

Rin coughs, scowling at his brother. “Yeah, sure. Happy.”

Corvo smirks and turns back to the coffee, pouring two mugs and fixing his with just a drop of ox milk and no sugar, while Daud’s is loaded with sugar and milk, the way he secretly likes to take it. “If there’s nothing else,” he asks, turning back to the Whalers.

“No,” Thomas says pleasantly. “They’re done. Good for you, Corvo. I’m glad you’re happy.” There’s an explicit threat in Thomas’ kind voice when he directs it at the brothers, before he turns back to Corvo with a smile.

Amused, Corvo shakes his head and half steps, half Blinks, up the stairs and nudges the door to the bedroom open.

Daud is, unsurprisingly, where he was when Corvo left the room, and Corvo slips over to him to hand off the coffee. “Here you go,” he says, determined not to let Daud’s behavior deter him.

“Thank you,” Daud says, the first time he’s spoken all morning. He sips the coffee and then looks down at it consideringly. “You know how I like my coffee.”

“Of course,” Corvo says, sitting backwards on the desk chair and drinking his own. “I’m the Crow King, I know everything.”

Daud snorts, putting down his mug. “This morning,” he says, halting and awkward. “You left.”

“Yes…? The coffee wasn’t going to get itself,” Corvo says, deliberately misunderstanding.

Scowling, Daud shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. You were… you didn’t try anything.”

Corvo puts his coffee mug down, Blinking over to the edge of the bed. “You’re right. I didn’t. Your choice, remember?” He shrugs. “I’m not quite old enough to stop suffering from morning erections but it’ll go away on it’s own.” He sits cross legged. “Besides, you were half frozen solid and clearly upset. Even if you were amenable to sexual behaviors, I wouldn’t have started anything until we’d discussed it at length.”

Daud transfers his gaze down the half empty mug. “You’re very occupied with discussing things at length,” he grumbles.

Shrugging one shoulder, Corvo leans over and kisses his temple, feeling fond. “Jessamine drew up a contract in order to get me to sleep with her,” he says. “If you must blame someone, blame her.”

He expects Daud to curl inward at the mention of Jessamine but instead he blinks, eyes a little wide. “A contract?”

“Oh yes,” Corvo says, with a grin. “Dear Lord Protector Attano, We, Jessamine Kaldwin First of Her Name, bring to your attention the attraction that We have felt towards your person. Since you have been dismissive of Our ploys, We have no other recourse than to pen you this letter.” He breaks off as Daud pulls a horrified face. “It went on for, I’m serious, six pages.”

Daud drinks his coffee, still looking slightly horrified. “I can’t.. No, I can believe that.”

“I wasn’t even sure how to respond, I thought she was playing an elaborate practical joke on me.” Corvo smiles, looking off into the distance. “So, to answer your question, again, discussing things until they’ve been talked to death has become a specialty of mine. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold, and I’m still not going to sleep with you until you directly say the words, ‘Corvo, I want to have sex with you.’ Clear?”

Coughing on his last sip of coffee, Daud snorts. “Clear,” he says.

Leaning in, and telegraphing his move so Daud can see him coming, Corvo kisses him again. It had been six years since anyone had kissed him with intent. It’s been six years since anyone had really even touched him.

Fighting down any awkwardness, Corvo brushes his fingers along Daud’s cheekbone, cupping his face in his right hand, and Daud pulls him closer, a sudden movement that overbalances them both.

Corvo lands on Daud’s chest, and he pulls back just enough to catch Daud’s gaze, checking for nerves or distaste. Instead, Daud rolls his eyes, tugging Corvo back for more kisses. They spread the taste of coffee between them, Daud’s too sweet by half, and Corvo’s too bitter, but Corvo just adjusts his position to not squish Daud and cradles his face with both hands, fingers raking through Daud’s hair.

Daud bites Corvo’s lower lip, lightly enough that he barely feels it, and then harder when Corvo pauses mid-kiss.

He has to choke back a surge of arousal at that, and shifts again so he’s up on one knee, solid by Daud’s hip, and making very certain that he’s not plastered against Daud’s front. His morning erection which had faded as he got coffee returns with a vengeance and there’s a very small part of him that wonders if this is a test.

He applies himself to kissing, touching the tip of his tongue to Daud’s lower lip, and rewarded when Daud opens his mouth, deepening their kiss. Daud’s fingers are tangled in his hair, the mess of long strands made worse by his questing fingers.

When Daud pulls away to drag in a ragged gasp of air, Corvo presses small kisses to the corners of his mouth, waiting for a signal to either pull away entirely or return to what they were doing. Daud moves his head brushes a kiss to the hinge of Corvo’s jaw before pulling away completely and he grins. “You have marks,” he says, brushing his thumb to Corvo’s cheek and chin.

“So do you,” Corvo retorts, flicking at Daud’s fingers.

Daud summons a vial of Sokolov’s elixir, pouring some on his fingers and rubbing it into the stubble burn on Corvo’s face. Taking some of the elixir himself, Corvo returns the favor.

Once the marks are healed, or as healed as they’ll get, Daud leans back in and presses a chaste kiss to Corvo’s lips. “You have a bone charm to make,” he prompts.

“Right,” Corvo says, sliding off the bed. His shirt and jacket are just long enough to hide anything embarrassing, and he leans down to kiss Daud again. “See you in eight hours,” he says, and Blinks away to the safety of his workshop.

*

The Void feels sluggish, when Corvo opens the connection inside himself and reaches for the magic. When he reaches for it, the tendrils of magic wrap around his hand but don’t come to him. He opens the connection wider, confused, and the Void slips from his grasp entirely.

His tattoos are slow to pick up the glow, sparking in waves, and Corvo has to take an extra moment to center himself. He empties himself of all emotion, of everything that so distracted him this morning. He reaches again for the Void and it roars through him. Satisfied, Corvo begins to carve.

This charm is different from the others, it's meant to bend the eye and trick the mind, but Corvo has experience with this. He smooths his fingers over the silver he'd wound around in a spiral, molding the warm metal again. The Void pulses, leaving whorls and divots in the silver under his fingers, that still glows faintly with purple light.

Spinning one of the carving tools, Corvo presses a rune into the bone, the tip of his carving tool turning a Void touched teal. He draws runes that make the eye slip just slightly to the left. The carving tool knows that rune, remembers it from Mindy’s charm and it flows from the Void easily.

The Void sparks around the rune and the connection slips away again, sending claws down his spine as it vanishes.

Corvo straightens, instinctively checking for wounds but finds nothing.

That was… strange. The Void had never bitten him before.

Hesitantly, he reaches for the connection again, sliding his fingers around the pool of magic, only to have it slip through his fingers like water or a particularly ornery hagfish. Corvo frowns, putting the bone charm down. It’s little over halfway complete and Corvo needs that bond with the Void to finish it.

Using his Mark, he reaches again, barely touching his untapped pool of mana when teeth bite into his hand and he jerks back, nearly falling off the stool.  

“Outsider?” he asks out loud, concern winding its way around the throbbing in his hand.

There’s no response, not that he was really expecting one. The Outsider may visit him more than anyone else, but he’s hardly a tame creature. He flexes his hand and Blinks across the room, relieved when no pain accompanies the action.

Settling back at his table, Corvo throws caution to the wind, plunging headlong into the Void and wrapping his hands around it, pulling his magic up to the surface of his skin.

Briefly, his tattoos shine with powerful teal light before they fade away and he’s left with magic under his skin. It’s still not smooth, he fumbles the carving tools more than he ever has since learning the skill, but eventually he’s able to fall into the meditative state required to give his everything to the charm.

When he comes back to himself, his back aches, and he’s starving. It’s also full dark which means he worked through lunch, dinner and likely was coming up on breakfast the next day.

Another spark of alarm ignites in his stomach and he turns to see that Daud has fallen asleep in one of the arm chairs, an untouched plate of food at his elbow. Corvo looks down to see that’d he finished the charm for Armando, and swears quietly.

Daud hadn’t forgotten to come get him, he’d been _unable to wake Corvo up._

Letting the stool clatter when he stands up makes Daud stir, and the assassin’s relief is written all over his face. “You’re alright,” he says, voice raspy and still thick with sleep.

“I’m alright,” Corvo agrees though he inwardly wonders how truthful that is. “What happened?”

“We couldn’t rouse you,” Daud says. “Everyone tried at least once. Emily threw a bucket of water on you but it dried nearly immediately. Your Crow bit your ear, but you didn’t even move or react.” Corvo touches his left ear, finding it tacky with dried blood. “I tried to move you from the table,” Daud admits. “If I couldn’t transverse, I probably would have gotten burned.”

Corvo flinches. “Void. I’m sorry, I… don’t know what happened.” He frowns, rubbing his left hand, and then his temple. “It took a long time for the Void to settle too. It bit me when I reached too deeply.”

“Have you spoken to the black eyed bastard?” Daud asks.

Shaking his head, Corvo flexes his left hand. “No. I called his name to see if he was listening, but there was no response. That’s not really a surprise, even for me. He’s flighty, and appears when he wants to, usually.”  

When Corvo’s stomach growls loudly, Daud snickers, taking him by the arm. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat and then into bed.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Corvo feels like he should make some kind of obligatory joke to Daud’s words, but with the Void far from his reach, there’s an exhausted sort of lassitude swirling through him that’s making it hard for him to concentrate.

Daud jostles his shoulder and Corvo blinks to find that a bowl of soup is now in front of him. “Is this normal?” Daud asks, and even as tired as he is, Corvo can hear the concern.

Eating some of the bloodox and onion soup restores a little of Corvo’s energy and he nods. “I was in the Void - or close to being in the Void - for just under sixteen hours. That’s like Blinking for twelve hours straight without stopping or recharging.”

Daud winces. “And you’re alright?”

“I’m… something,” Corvo admits, eating some more, trying to hide how badly his hand is shaking. “Exhausted.”

“Once we realized you weren’t going to come out of it, we set up a watch rotation. I had Rin and Rulf stake out a shrine over in the Batista District, just in case we needed his help.” Daud looks down and their hands, where he’d stolen Corvo’s left and linked their fingers. “What would have happened if you hadn’t come out of it on your own?” he questions slowly.

Corvo puts the spoon down, turning and focusing bleary eyes on Dauds. “Best not to ask,” he says. “Suffice it to say, I’m not going into the Void for a good long while.” He looks down at the half eaten bowl of soup, his stomach rebelling. “I can’t finish this.”

Another concerned expression flits across Daud’s face but he only nods. “Alright. Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s late, and I’m too old to sleep in a chair.”

He tugs Corvo into his arms and Blinks up to the office, leading the way into the bedroom. Corvo is barely able to shrug out of his jacket and shirt, fingers caught in the buttons, and Daud gently pushes his hands away to help Corvo out of his clothing.

Like before, they get into bed in just their pants, and Corvo is asleep before his head even hits the pillow.

He falls headlong into the Void, landing with a crunch on the cold black stone of the Outsider’s favorite meeting place.

He looks around, searching for the capricious whale god, but finds nothing but empty stone and a cold wind that screams as it blows through tall stone pillars. Corvo frowns, turning in place, and Blinks up to a higher ledge, seeing nothing remotely familiar about the surrounding area.

To his left and just above him is another floating archway and Corvo Blinks to that, clinging to it as he looks around. It rotates slowly for what seems like no reason, and when Corvo can see another island, he pushes off and Blinks to that one.

He steps out of the magic and looks around in surprise. He’s seen a lot of the Void, from old broken buildings where the cracks in the world leak through, to wherever the Outsider goes when he’s not watching his favored few.

This place is different than all those combined. The ground is soggy with muddy muck, and Corvo’s boots stick in it with wet squelching sounds. There’s the hollow echo of frogs chirping from somewhere, which is another thing he’s never heard in the Void.

There are thin reed like plants growing out of everything, but Corvo can see that there are tall statues in shaped black stone, all dressed in hooded robes. He Blinks over to one, ending up ankle deep in swampy water.

“What the…?” he murmurs, and follows the stone statues up a small rise where a large black stone table sits. There are ropes tied to it, at each corner, and there is the sickly smell of rot and dried blood _everywhere_.

Something moves behind the table, and Corvo takes an aborted step forward. “Outsider?” he asks, alarmed.

The whatever-it-is uncoils and Corvo dodges a strike to the solar plexus, Blinking backwards to hit his back on one of the statues. The area behind the table is dominated by a huge coiling plant, one that twists as though looking for him. Corvo picks up a loose stone, tossing it close to the plant, and it strikes out, cleaving the stone in two.

Corvo summons fire, pouring it through his hands to hit his attacker. The fire burns it, and the plant shrivels up and dies, leaving behind nothing but ash.

Assured that the danger has passed, Corvo makes his way past the table, continuing up the rise and halting in shock.

This must be a dream.

Stretched out across the Void, the whales he’d seen so often are dead, or dying, speared on plants or laid open on floating islands with their innards dripping into the nothing below them. An island spins past him and Corvo blinks onto it, stepping over pools of blood and plant matter to make his way to a small leviathan’s side.

It’s pinned to the rock, it’s tail pierced through by a long spear made of vine and stone. It moves weakly when Corvo approaches, but he shushes it gently. “No, shh, sh, it’s alright. I’m not here to hurt you,” he murmurs to it, kneeling by its visible eye and brushing a soothing hand over it. “I’ll help you, try not to move,” he adds, eyeing the spear.

He Blinks over to the other side of the leviathan, reaching out for the spear shaft and yanking it out of the stone with one quick tug.

The leviathan screams, the sound echoed all around in him in a crescendo of broken whalesong. It moves weakly, trying to slide off the island and Corvo nudges it gently, helping it fall into the nothing of the Void.

The leviathan rights itself, flipping its freed tail and sliding into the darkness of the Void, leaving a ripple behind in it’s wake.

Corvo Blinks over to another leviathan, but finds it dead and gone. One by one he Blinks through the graveyard, a pain in his heart as each creature dies before he gets there.

He Blinks up to a new island, landing upside down and finds himself looking down at Jessamine’s broken body. He recoils, nearly falling off the ledge, when he realizes that the floor around her corpse has been defiled. His eyes blur with tears and he Blinks away before he can read any of it.

None of this would be the Outsider’s doing. Not Jessamine’s mockery, and definitely not the whales.

This is just a dream, and all Corvo has to do is --

“Wake up!” Daud says, nudging Corvo in the side hard.

Corvo comes awake all at once, finding Daud kneeling over him. He flips over onto his back blinking up at Daud. “You had fewer clothes on when I saw you last,” he says stupidly.

Daud grins. “I woke up hours ago. But now the men are saying that Luca Abele is in your workshop and they’re all panicking so could you maybe go deal with that?”

“Luca Abele is.. Oh. Armando. Bone charm.” Corvo sits up, rubbing his eyes. “My undying devotion if you get me some coffee,” he tells Daud, as he gets out of bed.

Giving him a quick kiss, Daud nods. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Lethargic, Corvo pulls on the clothing closest to him, not realizing he’s stolen one of Daud’s jackets until after he’d tugged it on. Finding his own requires too much energy and he makes his way down to the kitchen, taking the cup of coffee offered to him. “Who is down with Armando right now?” he asks Daud.

“Thomas is,” Daud answers. “Wait, eat this.” He hands Corvo an apricot tartlet and watches him eat it. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Corvo decides on. “Still tired, but that’s to be expected. I’ll take a nap later, if I can.” He presses a slightly sticky kiss to Daud’s cheek. “Thank you for the coffee.”

He Blinks down to the workshop door and listens for a brief moment to Armando - who sounds very much like Luca Abele - and Thomas chat. “... should be right here,” Thomas is saying and Corvo pushes the door open. “Ah. Master Crow,” he says, and Corvo can see the relief in his eyes when Thomas turns to face him.

“Thank you for entertaining my guest, Thomas,” Corvo drawls. “I can take it from here.”

There’s a distinct air of relief when Thomas makes his escape and Corvo leans against his workshop table. “I’m fairly certain I remember telling you I wouldn’t be done for three days,” he says.

Armando shrugs once. “I’ve made too many changes as it is. The servants have been asking me if I feel alright because I’m not eating as much as Luca did. I didn’t attend Lady Serphina’s party yesterday either, and she came around this morning to ask if she had displeased me in some way. I’m hoping you worked a miracle and finished it early.”

Corvo raises an eyebrow, nudging the charm towards him. “It’s done. Hide it in an inner pocket, and much of your outside problems will clear up.”

Snatching up the charm, Armando turns it this way and that. “And there’s no side effects?”

“No,” Corvo answers, knowing better than to be offended. “It’s perfectly fine.” Armando slides it into an inner pocket and Corvo nods as the magic takes root. “Try to remember if you take any romantic partners that they’ll notice the difference when you remove your coat,” he adds.

“Thank you, Crow,” Armando says. “I’m forever in your debt.”

Corvo shrugs. “Just try to remember who the common folk are, when it comes to pass that you take the throne.”

“I’m from gutterstock too,” Armando says easily, without rancor or irritation. “When I take the throne, perhaps I’ll seek out an advisor from the common people. How would you like to come to court with me, Crow King?”

Waving a hand, Corvo shakes his head. “Void, no, thank you but no,” he says, half laughing, half cringing. “I fear I lost my taste for politics and machinations years ago. But I have a few recommendations,” he adds thoughtfully.

“Oh?” Armando asks, tilting his head to one side. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a man in the Batista District,” he says. “Goes by Paolo, he’s the Leader of the Howler gang. He has big dreams and a big love for Serkonos. Get past his rough exterior, and you’ll find a strong friend and advisor in him.”

Armando frowns. “I’ve heard of him. Not much of it has been good, though.”

Corvo shrugs again. “I imagine my reputation isn’t overly sterling either. Give him a chance, Armando. He’ll keep you honest, if nothing else.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Armando says. “What do I owe you for the charm?” he asks.

Corvo pauses, because he’s spent years of his life here crafting charms and making potions and no one has ever offered him actual money for it. “Um,” he says. “I don’t charge for this,” he finally says. “Consider it a favor to the crown.”

After Armando has left, not so covertly dropping a sack of coins on the table by the door, Corvo leans back against the table. Jess flies down from her perch, pressing her head into his cheek.

“Thoughts, my love?” Corvo asks her, stroking a finger down her spine.

“ _He was a player in the game of magic and power. All the world has changed as he has,_ ” she says, and he gives her a look. “ _He has many regrets.”_

He takes a deep breath. “Jess. About.. About Daud.”

She shrieks in his ear. “ _Death! I feel only death from that one!_ ”

Sitting on his stool, Corvo drops his head down onto his folded arms. “Jess, would you listen to me?” he groans and she fluffs up her feathers. “He’s changed. He’s changed so much even in the short few months I’ve known him.”

“ _Secrets so well kept,”_ Jess says sadly. _“Even I cannot discern them all._ ”

“I’ve kissed him. Slept in the same bed as him,” Corvo says. And Jess stops, turning her head and meeting his eyes. “I know what he did to you, my love. And I will always, _always_ love you. Do you begrudge me a chance to move on?”

 _“I do feel something. But it is distant… like a memory_ ,” Jess says.

Corvo sits up, putting her on the worktable to look her in the eye. “I could love him,” he tells her softly.

“ _Whatever we were_ ,” Jess says quietly, looking up at him with one Void purple eye, _“that life is over now. How I misplaced my trust! Now that I see so well, I see how blind I was!”_

He flinches, heart aching. “Jess, would you have me love a ghost? Would you have me shackled to your memory forever?”

“ _I do not remember my former life, all I have now is this!_ ” Jess shrieks.

Corvo hisses through his teeth, turning away. “Void damn it, Jess! Do you love me?” She falls silent, her wings flapping oddly. “Answer me! Do you love me?”

“ _No one loves you as I do,”_ Jess says slowly.

Rubbing his eyes with his fingers, Corvo bites back the urge to cry, or shout, or throw something. “Jess, if you love me… let me learn to love someone else.”

“ _It was never meant to be this way!_ ” Jess cries, a long mournful sound.

Corvo presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “But we must deal with what we’ve been given. I lost you, but I have something to gain now. You don’t have to approve.”

“ _It can only lead to misery_ ,” Jess says pointedly. _“I cannot see his fate, your fate._ ”

She flies off then, tucking her head under her wing once she arrives at her perch, high above his head. Corvo sighs and goes to find Daud.

“What’s wrong?” Daud asks as soon as he sees Corvo’s face.

“Arguing with Jess,” he answers, which is all he’s willing to say. “Anything interesting going on? I could use a distraction.”

There’s a pause, and Daud’s face goes from concerned to considering, and he Blinks them up to the office before Corvo can ask after the expression change. Daud reaches out and pulls Corvo close. “Corvo,” he says, slow, and methodical, almost wondering. “I want to have sex with you.”

*tbc


	19. 19. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He understands the need for proof on skin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. THIS IS IT. The chapter you've all been waiting for. In which we earn our rating.
> 
> Finally.
> 
> As always, this is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Sera, Aeniala, starbunny, taywen, Estora and brendwell, and everyone who comments, offers con crit, and of course everyone who sends anon asks over this story. I love each and every one of you.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back, and answer asks as soon as I can. 
> 
> Your support means so much to me. Thank you.

They stumble into the bedroom together, Corvo pressing open mouthed kisses to the side of Daud's neck. He decides he likes it, tilts his head for better access, and Corvo grins against his jugular. "No teeth," Daud says sharply.  
  
"Of course not," Corvo promises, laying a solitary kiss on Daud's pulse point.   
  
Daud tugs off Corvo's shirt, running his fingers down the strained and sculpted muscles, feeling out scars with his hands. "How are they healing?" He asks, and Corvo turns around to show him.

The old whip marks are just white lines now while the the newer ones are still red and raised, though no longer angry with infection or stitching. He goes to touch one, and Corvo flinches so he changes course and turns him around instead. "We should talk before this goes anywhere else," Corvo says because of course he does.   
  
Groaning, Daud pushes him on the bed. "Fine. Talk away."   
  
Corvo grins and kisses him gently. "Sorry, amante," he drawls. "But this is all you."   
  
Daud blinks at the endearment, and sighs, looking at the ceiling. "I want to see you naked," he admits. "But I still want to be careful of you touching me, even accidentally."   
  
Nodding Corvo thinks about it for a second, clearly analyzing the bed. "We could sit up, a bit, with you leaning against the headboard. We could put pillows between us so I don't lean against anything you don't want touched."   
  
Picturing that in his head, Daud nods slowly. He'd have all of Corvo's front to explore and he wouldn't accidentally aggravate Corvo's back or make him uncomfortable. "Alright," he says. "Now it's definitely your turn. What don't you like?"   
  
"Pain and being tied down," Corvo says again. "Held still might be alright. I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable." Daud nods. "If one of us says no, we'll stop immediately, yes?"   
  
"I can agree to that," Daud says immediately. "What else?"   
  
Corvo reaches out and frames his face with his hands. "If you get uncomfortable with what you're doing, or what I'm doing, I promise I will not hold it against you. I won't push you to finish. I won't get angry."   
  
Daud looks away from his intense silver gaze and nods once. "I meant more along the lines of what I shouldn't do or touch," he says dryly.   
  
"No, there isn't much you could do that would make me uncomfortable," Corvo says.   
  
Deciding not to mention that he'd stiffened up over his scars, Daud instead pulls off his own shirt, dropping it off on the side of the bed. "You're falling behind, bodyguard," he rumbles instead, grinning when Corvo glares.   
  
They remove the rest of their clothing and Daud almost can't make himself look over at Corvo. Corvo lounges on the bed, hair spilling over one shoulder, completely unashamed of his nudity.   
  
He's visibly interested in the proceedings and Daud notes that Corvo is symmetrical all around, and he lives up to the stereotype of tall men with large hands.   
  
Corvo's smirks a little, a dimple digging into the corner of his left cheek. "Still good?" He asks.   
  
Daud nods. "Still good," he says, and climbs onto the bed. Corvo obligingly moves forward so that Daud can settle back against the headboard.   
  
He puts one of the oversized pillows between them, shifting so he doesn't feel squished, and Corvo drops his head back onto Daud's shoulder. "I could probably fall asleep like this," he admits, still smiling.   
  
"Bored already?" Daud drawls, suddenly nervous that he's not doing enough to keep Corvo's attention.   
  
Corvo pulls his head down for a brief kiss. "Not at all," he says against Daud's cheek. "Just very comfortable."   
  
Daud kisses him again, nipping Corvo's bottom lip. This time, Corvo can't hide his reaction to that, as his breathing hitches and his hips twitch. "You like that?" Daud asks, just to be sure.   
  
Corvo nods and Daud bites the side of his neck. Corvo's groan rumbles through him and Daud feels a small glow of pleasure. "Just checking," he murmurs, kissing the juncture of Corvo's neck and shoulder.     
  
Corvo snorts. "I think you're just teasing," he says, tilting his head to the side, giving Daud more room.

 

“Would I do that?” Daud asks him, and Corvo snorts. “Cheeky fucker,” Daud murmurs into the skin of Corvo’s shoulder, biting in retaliation when Corvo laughs.

 

The bite makes him groan, and one of Corvo’s hands fists in the covers by their side. “Where can I touch you?” Corvo asks, sounding breathless. “I don’t want to grab you without realizing it.”

 

“Nothing from the waist down,” Daud says, even though Corvo can’t really touch him there in this position. “Mid thigh down is alright though.” Almost immediately, Corvo’s other hand grips his knee and Daud grins.

 

When Daud runs his hands down Corvo’s chest, just a broad stroke of his palms, Corvo arches his back and out of the corner of his eye Daud can see him bite his lip. “Sorry,” he says, after a second. “It’s… been a very long time since anyone has touched me.”

 

“Do you need me to slow down?” Daud asks, holding still.

 

Corvo inhales, and from where his hands are resting, Daud can feel the catch in Corvo’s lungs. “No,” he finally decides on. “I’m alright.”

 

Given the all clear, Daud continues to explore, pressing his fingers into the grooves of Corvo’s abdomen, tracing along the sharp edge of his hip. He kisses the available skin of Corvo’s neck, smiling when Corvo drops his head back onto Daud’s shoulder, giving him more space to work with.

 

He sucks a mark into Corvo’s shoulder, where it’ll be hidden by his clothing, and Corvo groans again, a hitching whine to the sound. “You like being marked?” Daud asks, and Corvo nods without speaking. He can guess why - Corvo could never leave marks or be marked in return on the off chance that someone saw and guessed. To make up for it, Daud bites him again, leaving another mark beside the first.

 

He can see the appeal, looking down at blossoming bruises in the shape of his mouth. It’s not a sexual thing, for him, but he understands the need for proof on skin.

 

It’s not hard to notice that with each bruise that Daud leaves, Corvo grows more interested. He’s fully hard now, curved upwards towards his belly though he makes no move to touch himself. Daud feels a sliver of apprehension, looking down at Corvo’s erection.

 

“Still good?” Corvo asks, having opened his eyes and looked up at Daud.

 

“Good,” Daud echoes, and tilts Corvo’s chin up for a real kiss. Corvo frees his hand from the blankets, twisting slightly to cup the back of Daud’s head as he deepens the kiss.  “You don’t have to keep checking in,” he complains, and pinches Corvo’s side.

 

Corvo jumps, biting his chin lightly in retribution. “It’s common courtesy,” he protests.

 

“Fuck your courtesy,” Daud grumbles, and feels annoyingly gratified when Corvo just laughs. He sweeps his palms up from Corvo’s sides, pressing a little harder to gauge the appropriate amount of pressure.

 

Corvo hums quietly, arching just a little into his grip and when Daud reaches his chest, he can feel his erratic and quick heartbeat.

 

Daud pauses again, accessing Corvo’s physical state, and his own mental one. He’s still concerned, but Corvo’s complete unhurried air makes him relax into the bed, pulling Corvo closer. There’s a faint dusting of silver-black hair on Corvo’s chest, and Daud hesitates before rubbing his palms over Corvo’s nipples.

 

They’re peaked already, whether from arousal or the chill in the room, but when Daud touches them, Corvo arches like he’s been electrocuted. He makes a muffled sound, and Daud can see how hard he’s biting into his lip out of the corner of his eye. “Still good?” he asks against Corvo’s ear, and Corvo shivers, nodding without speaking.

 

“This doesn’t do much for me,” Daud comments, rubbing his thumb against one of Corvo’s nipples.

 

Corvo chokes out a laugh. “About five minutes ago I would have said the same thing,” he says.

 

Deciding that exploring that train of thought isn’t conducive to continuing, Daud shrugs and kisses the tip of Corvo’s ear. “As long as you’re enjoying yourself.”

 

Tilting his head to look up, Corvo asks, “are you?”

 

“I like making you feel good,” Daud says slowly, rolling one of Corvo’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s hard to explain. This is good. It’s… enough.” He does it again and the groan torn from Corvo vibrates through the pillow and into Daud’s solar plexus.

 

It’s easier to explore, now that he knows that Corvo can’t hold back his reactions. He can tell what the man likes or doesn’t like - which, so far has been nothing. He feathers his thumbs over Corvo’s nipples again, biting another mark into the side of his neck, perhaps too high for a shirt to cover and Corvo’s fingers on his knee go tight enough to bruise.

 

A keening cry grinds out of him, and his back arches enough that Daud can hear a bone in his spine crack. “Should I do that again, or…?” Daud asks, lips still mostly against the skin of Corvo’s neck.

 

Corvo slumps back down, and he knocks his head against Daud’s lightly. “You’re killing me here,” he says, but Daud can see the way his lips are turned up in a smile. His chest his heaving under Daud’s hands, and the rapid staccato of his heartbeat is faster than before.

 

It’s obvious that he’s doing something right.

 

He goes back to just touching, wrapping his arms around Corvo’s frame, running his hands firmly across swathes of muscle until his trembling calms and his breathing is more regular. “Still good?” Daud asks.

 

“Yes,” Corvo says, turning his head to kiss the edge of Daud’s jaw. “I’m still good.” He tilts his head just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You still good?”

 

Daud nods, giving Corvo a proper kiss. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m good.”

 

He slides his hands down Corvo’s stomach, and he can feel the way the muscle there trembles under his hands. His erection is… impressive. His fingers are dangerously close to where it’s lying against Corvo’s belly. The tip is damp with clear liquid, and the longer he leaves his fingers where they are, the more Corvo’s stomach quivers.

 

The few times he’d ever done this to himself, it had been quick, perfunctory, a way to help him fall asleep or distract him from a brain fever that wouldn’t go away. This feels different - a lot different - and Daud isn’t sure how to proceed.

 

Corvo lets go of his knee, reaching out and twining their fingers together. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “If you tell me right now that you can’t continue, I will roll over and go to sleep.”

 

Daud hisses through his teeth, pulling his hand away from Corvo’s. He leans forward, just a little so he doesn’t strain his elbow, and slips a hand around Corvo’s erection. Corvo’s voice breaks off and he bites his lip.

 

He slides his hand down to the base of Corvo’s cock, and strokes once, very lightly.  Corvo’s hand digs into the meat of his thigh, and he arches his hips before he visibly stops himself.   
  
"You can move," Daud says. "I don't mind."   
  
Corvo just makes another low keening groan, and leans his head into Daud's shoulder. Daud strokes him again, keeping his touch light. Corvo's skin is soft, burning hot under his hand, slick at the tip and getting slicker.   
  
Daud curls his hand gently around Corvo's cock, and strokes as light as air, brushing his thumb under the head. Corvo's entire body ripples in an arch that makes all the muscles in his abdomen and shoulders stand out in sharp relief. "Void," Corvo swears on a sobbing breath.   
  
Wrinkling his nose, Daud nips his ear. "If you get his attention, I'm definitely going to stop."   
  
Corvo gasps raggedly, body relaxing by degrees. "That would be mortifying," he murmurs.   
  
Daud makes a non-committal sound and strokes Corvo again, just to see his muscles work. "What do you need?" He asks, as clear fluid spills over the tip of Corvo's cock.   
  
"Tighter," Corvo says, but it's not an order. "Please." His voice breaks, as Daud experiments with his grip, tightening slowly until Corvo whines again.   
  
He gives Corvo another slow stroke, and Corvo's hand spasms on Daud's leg. "Are you going to come?" Daud asks, feeling the tightly twitching stomach muscles under his left hand.   
  
"Soon," Corvo says, voice broken and hoarse. "Fuck, still good?"   
  
Daud chuckles, touched that even on the very edge, Corvo is still checking on him. "Still good," he murmurs, and speeds up his strokes on Corvo's cock.   
  
Corvo cries out, muffling the sound in Daud's neck, fingers clawing his thigh and knee on either side. From this angle, he can just see the way Corvo's face twists in pleasure, his furrowed brow and red bitten lips.   
  
He can feel a small glow of pleasure deep in his gut: this is good. He tightens his fingers more, speeding his strokes and Corvo twists in his grip, crying out.   
  
"I'm close," he pants out, voice utterly wrecked. It does things to Daud's insides to hear his usually quiet and even voice so broken. "Daud, I- if you don't want- Void, fuck." Daud digs his thumb into the vein he can feel under the tip of Corvo's cock and Corvo claps a hand over his mouth.   
  
Despite his attempt to muffle himself, Daud can still feel the vibration of Corvo's shout. He comes a second later, spilling over Daud's hand and his own stomach.   
  
Corvo slumps there bonelessly for a second before turning on the bed to give Daud a kiss. "Still good?" He asks, his voice still cracked and raspy.   
  
"Still good," Daud agrees. "I'd like to wash my hands though."   
  
It takes him a little effort, but Corvo slips to the side, allowing Daud to get up. Daud knows that Corvo's eyes catch on his erection, a side effect of stimulus and Corvo's own natural appeal but to Daud's ever increasing relief, he makes no mention of it nor does he look for long, stead closing his eyes and getting comfortable on the bed. "I'll get a cloth for you," Daud says, and heads to the adjoining bathroom to wash his hand and wrist, as well as find something to wipe down Corvo's stomach.   
  
When he returns, Corvo is sitting up, easily taking the cloth from him and cleaning his skin off. "Still good?" He asks, raising one eyebrow in question.   
  
"I'm good," he says, sitting on the bed, leaning over and kissing Corvo. "I left a few marks though."   
  
Corvo touches them gently. "I don't mind. I like them."   
  
Daud settles on the bed, and holds out his arm for Corvo to join him. Leaning against his side, Corvo presses a kiss to Daud's shoulder. "Anything you'd like to do differently, next time?" Corvo asks then pauses. "If you want there to be a next time."   
  
"I'd like to see your face," Daud says. "And... I enjoyed myself."   
  
Corvo smiles, the same blindingly devastating one that stuns him into silence. "Is there anything I can do differently?" Corvo asks, but he's not looking down at Daud's lap, he's meeting Daud's eyes.   
  
"You can give instructions," Daud says slowly. "I didn't mean to tease you," Daud adds. "I'd have listened."   
  
Corvo snorts, leaning his face into Daud's shoulder. "It was good. I liked it."   
  
Daud hums, leaning his cheek on top of Corvo's head. "And it was enough?" He asks, hesitantly, not sure he wanted the answer.   
  
The question makes Corvo sit up, hair spilling every which way, and he meets Daud's eyes fearlessly. "It was enough. No one has touched me in almost six years, with the exception of the Outsider who touches me only rarely, and the Royal Torturer who I'd prefer not to remember. Even if you decided this would never happen again, I'd be content. This was perfect."   
  
Daud pulls Corvo onto his lap, kissing him hard and deep, swallowing his startled gasp. They kiss for another long second and Daud rests his forehead against Corvo's. "Thanks, bodyguard," he murmurs.   
  
Corvo rolls his eyes. "That's my line, assassin." 

Daud pulls Corvo close again, and he lays across Daud's chest when the door flies open. "Daud!" Emily shrieks, "Daud, what's wrong, are you alrig--  _oh sweet Outsider, my eyes!_."   
  
She spins around, facing the wall. "Emily?" Corvo asks, mild and amused even as Daud feels like he's being set on fire.   
  
"Out!" He shouts, and Emily disappears through the door, not quite closing it behind her. "Get dressed, we need to - why are you laughing, stop that!" Corvo has flopped over on the bed, laughing into the pillows and Daud shoves him as he climbs out of bed.   
  
He grabs his pants and the shirt closest to him, pulling them on haphazardly. "You've got my shirt on," Corvo points out helpfully. "No, leave it, it looks good."   
  
Daud gives him his best, most withering glare. "Get dressed," he barks.   
  
Corvo stretches, miles of golden skin on display and Daud is momentarily derailed. When he finally climbs out of bed, Daud almost pushes him out the door as he is.   
  
"No," Emily says shrilly, through the door. "Don't  go in there, it's scary."   
  
Thomas voice comes right after. "If Master Daud is hurt," he says sharply and his shadow comes closer through the cracked door.   
  
"No!" Emily yelps. "He's not hurt, he's naked!"   
  
Rin and Rulf join them, very loud in the sudden silence. "What's wrong?" Rulfio asks.   
  
"The Master is naked and Emily has delicate sensibilities," Thomas drawls, as Corvo finally tugs on his pants.   
  
"My sensibilities are not delicate!" Emily shouts, outraged. "Corvo was naked too!"   
  
Corvo slips on Daud's shirt, and it's too tight through his shoulders. Daud ignores his grin but not the ensuing kiss he gets for staring.   
  
"I hope you realize this is never going to happen again," Daud says sourly.   
  
Corvo's grin widens. "Lies," he says and opens the door to be faced with Emily, Rinaldo, Rulfio and Thomas. "What was so urgent you came flying in here like a swarm of bloodflies was after you?" He asks and Daud comes up to stand behind him.   
  
"What's wrong with my mark?" Emily demands.   
  
"Ours too," Thomas says, gesturing to the room at large. "No one can use their powers."   
  
Daud frowns at him and looks down at his left hand. The Mark is still there, but the black ink has gone grey and faded, as though it was an old, particularly distasteful tattoo.   
  
Corvo blinks at it, looking at his own. His has gone grey and faded, but it's missing chunks as well, like something or someone has taken a bite out of it.   
  
Daud makes a fist, attempting a transversal. The power builds for a reassuring second and then dies entirely, and the Mark, on his hand for twenty five years, disappears without a trace.   
  
"It's gone," Emily breathes and Corvo makes his own fist. He gets further than Daud did, he flickers for a second before stumbling. His Mark dies too, fading and sinking away.   
  
"Can you access the Void in other ways?" Thomas asks him. "You're a witch, after all. They always can use their powers without a Mark."   
  
Corvo frowns. "I'm not sure. Let me try." He makes a face, concentrating and Daud braces his shoulder just in case.   
  
His tattoos flare with the Void, but instead of the cool teal so familiar to them, they flash a bright and angry red. Corvo makes a noise of pain and red barbs fly out of his hand when he raises it, and Rinaldo is forced to retreat lest he get stuck with one.   
  
"The fuck?" Corvo swears. "I've never done that before." He shakes out his arm and the red light dies. "Short answer: yes. Long answer: not unless I need it."   
  
Daud can feel the buzz of the Void in the air and shivers. "We need to find a shrine," he says.   
  
"There's one in the Batista district," Thomas answers immediately.   
  
"It belongs to Paolo. We need to find out what's going on," Corvo says. There's a wealth of worry in his eyes. "Something's happened to the Outsider."   
  
Daud knows without saying what Corvo is thinking: Delilah Kaldwin finally got her wish.

 

*

 


	20. 20. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Thank you,” he murmurs, when the kiss ends._
> 
> _“For what?” Daud asks lightly, a small smile on his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning, my darlings! This last, fateful chapter is of course, for my beloved Dani - the reason this fic exists, Lex - who went to buy Dishonored just to read this fic, Sera - who did the same, Aeniala - who left such thought provoking comments, Estora - who reached out and became my friend, for starbunny - who also became my friend, for Brendwell, BittyBeans, Aescela, HaleyOakenshield, Kess, Taywen and everyone who has left comments here, or on my tumblr. 
> 
> Every single one of you made this fic possible. You are the reason I kept writing, even when I was sick, even when I was stuck at work, even when all I wanted to do was play Nier Automata. Thank you, all of you, for everything.
> 
> As ever, I can be found on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), I follow back and will happily answer any questions, or chat. 
> 
> Enjoy, my darlings.

It takes too long to cross the city without magic, and Corvo isn’t quite willing to test out his power without the Mark to direct it so soon after nearly taking off Rinaldo’s head. They take the carriages, or simply race down streets, giving no care to blending in.

 

It’s been so long since he’d not had his powers that he’s forgotten how to function without them.

 

Daud and Corvo, with Emily only a few steps behind them rush through the Aventa quarter, keeping to the alleys but without magic, they’re forced to walk out into the street. “Mask, _mask!_ ” Emily hisses, and Corvo removes it, hooking it to his belt.

 

Together, they fall in step with the rest of the crowd, though eventually someone must recognize Corvo, because by the time they get to the Carriage House, the crowd has multiplied rather than thinned out.

 

“Master Crow,” one of the Guards says, as they enter the building. “Is everything alright?”

 

Corvo slips in front of Daud, just enough to block him with his bulk. “Yes,” Corvo answers lightly. “I just need to get to the Batista District.”

 

The Guard desperately looks like he wants to ask about magic, but instead he nods, stepping to one side, and letting them through to one of the carriages. Emily squishes herself next to him on the seat, and Corvo tangles his legs with Daud’s, the only bit of affection he can afford out in the open.

 

“Is the Outsider alright?” Emily asks once they’re away from Lower Aventa and on their way towards the Harbor.

 

Exchanging a look with Daud, Corvo finally says, “I don’t know, Em.”

 

She bites her lip, leaning into his side. “Sorry about this morning,” she murmurs. “I’ll knock next time.”

 

Corvo nudges her. “Should have knocked this time,” he tells her, but there’s no reproach in his tone. “Suppose it’s a good a time as any to explain, though.”

 

She smiles up at him. “No, it’s alright. I know, you two are together. Rin has been taking bets.”

 

Daud’s smile dropped. “They what?”

 

Emily nods, a little sheepishly. “They’re all probably back home exchanging coin. I had sixty on you, but you two took too long, so I lost it.”

 

“I want to yell at you for that,” Corvo says, “but I’m actually a little impressed that they kept it a secret from me.”

 

Daud scowls at him. “I thought you were supposed to know everything.”

 

Corvo snorts, waving a hand at the blurry world outside the carriage. “Sure, about them. But it’s generally considered rude to spy on your friends and family. I might not care about the citizen folk, or their sensibilities, but I assumed you lot would be less likely to accept that I can see and hear everything. I was trying to be polite.”

 

“Me, yes. I like my privacy. The rest? They’re fair game,” Daud says sourly. Corvo grins, and though his concern still weighs heavy on his heart, being with his daughter and Daud has made the burden somewhat easier to bear.

 

They switch carriages at the Harbor, heading towards the Batista district, and Corvo finds himself flexing his left hand absently. The Mark had never felt like anything, it didn’t weigh heavy on his skin, or pull at his flesh, but it’s absence is almost a physical weight.

 

Daud takes his hand, linking their fingers together. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly.

 

Emily puts her hand on top of theirs. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you daddy,” she says and Corvo hugs her hard to his side.

 

He’s been lucky - before he could have said that because he escaped Coldridge with his life, was chosen to bear great powers, was the favorite of a God - but now he can say it because he’s been given a new chance at life.

 

All that he needs now is that God of his to pop out of the Void and tell him they’ve been worrying for nothing.

 

The carriage arrives at the Batista District, and Corvo immediately follows the well known path towards the Howler base. The Grand Guards give them a wide berth, but they give the area near the Crone’s Hand an even wider one.

 

“There’s a surprising number of guards here,” Emily notes, taking Corvo’s hand.

 

Corvo looks down at her as they step around a pile of silver dust. “The Howler base is something of an open secret,” he says. “The guard don’t ask, they don’t tell. It works, more or less.”

 

They slip through the wooden bastion doors and Corvo immediately picks up the pace, making his way through the open Courtyard, around Aramis Stilton’s house. The guards have all but vanished and as soon as they enter the district proper, Corvo drops Emily’s hand and _runs_.

 

He slams into the Crone’s Hand Pub, completely ignoring the Howler’s milling around. It’s taken too long to cross the city naturally, any number of terrible things could be happening to the Whalers, or to the Outsider - he feels unstable and anxious and he slams open the gate between the bar and yard with too much force.

 

Mindy is behind the bar and she startles, looking concerned. “What’s wrong? Has there been another attack?” she asks, putting down the bottle of whiskey she’s holding. “Corvo?”

 

There’s too much to tell and Corvo shakes his head. “I need to see Paolo. Right now.” He hopes that his tone conveys how serious he is, because he doesn’t have the words to explain.

 

Her concerned look only deepens but she waves them around the bar, and into a room in the back. “Crow? Corvo?” she asks, and he shakes his head again. “Alright. You know the way.”

 

Moving swiftly, Corvo takes the stairs at the far end of the room two at a time, going up to the third floor. The door in the corridor opens into a surprisingly sunlit room, and Paolo spins around, hand on his pistol. “Void,” he swears with feeling. “What the fuck, Corvo?”

 

“There’s a problem,” Corvo says. “My Outsider Mark is gone, and so is Daud’s.”

 

Paolo frowns, and the Void bends around him briefly before it dies. He pales dramatically under his tan and reaches for the bandolier around his chest. He opens it, tipping it over onto his desk. Corvo has seen the Marked and severed hand before, but instead of a deformed and desiccated limb, ash and dust falls into a small pile.

 

“Oh no,” Corvo murmurs, leaving Emily’s side to go to Paolo’s.

 

“Shit,” Paolo swears, looking sick. “No more rats. No more mist. Fuck. No more twice-death.” He looks up at Corvo, bleak and desperate. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”

 

“Well,” Corvo says with a lightness he doesn’t feel, “you could always become a witch.”

 

Paolo gives him a venomous look that tells him what he thinks of that. “What about you? Your lot?”

 

Daud shakes his head. “Nothing. No Mark, no magic,” he answers shortly.

 

Corvo hesitates. Paolo stares at him, sickened expression morphing into a snarl. “What? Spit it out, Crow!”

 

Sighing, Corvo waves his left hand a little. “I can do… something. But it’s not what I can normally do - I nearly killed one of our men earlier experimenting.”

 

Paolo pressed his lips together. “It’s not magic then. It’s… _him._ ” Corvo nods, expression tight. “Has he answered you? You can use my shrine, if you need.”

 

Now that they’ve made it to the easiest shrine, Corvo feels a sliver of apprehension. What if the Outsider has forsaken them? It kills him a little inside to even think the treacherous thought, but it’s not an impossibility. The Outsider always grows bored, he’s admitted it to Corvo himself. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson and taken his Mark away for good.

 

He steps around the corner, ignoring the tacky picture of Vera Moray on the opposite wall to the shrine. He reaches for the Runes before he really registers them and pauses, arm out stretched. The Runes are sitting there, as they ever are, but the room is silent.

 

There’s no whalesong, no humming music. The Runes are silent and still, where they lay on top of the shrine. He reaches out slowly and lifts one up. It disintegrates into ash around his fingers, falling like coal.

 

When Daud reaches around him for the second Rune, it’s treated to the same courtesy.

 

The Runes are dead.  

 

Corvo staggers back a step, as the shrine collapses into a pile of wood, wire and cloth, completely empty. “What the fuck,” Paolo says from the door. “What the _fuck_.”

 

“I… I don’t know.” Corvo turns frantic eyes onto Daud. “What do we do?”

 

On the one hand, Corvo is so intensely glad at the proof that the Outsider hasn’t abandoned them. On the other… “Is he dead?” Emily asks quietly.

 

He can’t answer that question either. “The Runes are,” he says, a half answer. “What that means for our mutual friend… I couldn’t tell you.”

 

“Have you asked…” Emily trails off before rallying. “Have you asked mom?”

 

The fucking crows.

 

He can feel the blood drain from his face. “Jess,” he whispers.

 

Leaving Paolo to explain his new mortality to his men, Corvo takes Daud and Emily and slips out the back. Mindy though, has obviously anticipated him.  
  
"Crow," she says sharply. "I don't like it when I don't know things."  
  
"The Marks are gone," Corvo says. "And Paolo can no longer use his... artifact." He looks down at his hands. "Whatever magic I have, it’s no longer directed by the Outsider. I’ve been a little afraid to experiment - our entire lives have changed, Min. We’re not heretics anymore.”

 

Mindy’s eyes are wide, and growing wider. She turns sharply to look in through the door to the pub, before crossing the alley to hug Corvo hard. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

 

“Yeah,” he says, embracing her with one hand. “Me too.”  


She pulls back and her face has set into a familiar determined expression. “What do we do now?” she asks.

 

Corvo is itching to get back to the Warehouse, he needs to find Jess, aching with the knowledge that the last time they spoke was a fight over Daud. But he forces himself to slow down, to think rationally. “We have to regroup,” he answers, looking over at Daud. “Figure out what magic is left to us. Someone should check in on Addermire, see how they’re faring.”

 

Mindy nods. “I’ll get one of the Howler’s to do it,” she says. “They were close to a breakthrough when you were hurt. They’ve had to improved on the recipe by now.”

 

Daud’s expression sours faintly and Corvo makes another note to find out why. “Then… if the Outsider is gone… truly, really gone, we’ll have to adapt. I’ll learn to use magic the way every other witch does. Paolo will have to be more careful, and life will… well, life will move on.”

 

She sighs, looking away again. “I’ll let you know about Addermire,” she says.

 

Judging the conversation to be closed, Corvo withdraws, moving swiftly through the alley towards the carriage house. “Daddy?” Emily asks quietly.

 

“Emily?” he responds, ghosting a hand over her hair.

 

“I hope mother is alright,” she whispers.

 

With all his heart, Corvo hopes so too.

 

*

 

The Warehouse is full of angry, frightened Whalers, but there are no crows. The twins report that they’d seen a flock - “it’s a _murder_ , Rin, _Void_ ” - fly away a few hours ago, and that none have returned.

 

His workshop is empty, Jess’ perch abandoned, and all the surrounding roofs are clear of crows as well.

 

With a boost from Daud, Corvo scrambles up onto the roof, and finds the entire place empty of his crows.  He’d fought with them, tried to escape them, screamed with them, flown with them - for five years, his life has revolved around his crows.

 

There’s an empty feeling that Corvo can’t quite ignore, hollow under his breastbone as his friends, the ones who’d followed him without question or judgement are gone without a trace.

 

“ _Corvo…_ ” a voice says and he whirls, looking around. “ _My Corvo…?”_ It’s the Outsider’s voice, warbling a little with fear, and Corvo shoves away the chairs that make up their rooftop dining room. Under one of the chairs lays Jess, her feathers in disarray, her void purple eyes blank and black. Her beak moves a few times. “ _She hurt me,_ ” the Outsider says through the fragile body of his Crow.

 

“Outsider,” Corvo breathes, scooping up the injured bird.

 

The Outsider tries to turn, but Jess’s body flops awkwardly, feathers falling away to drift on the wind. “ _My Corvo, you must listen to me_ ,” the Outsider says. “ _I don’t have much time. My Corvo, I’m sorry. I’m_ sorry _. You must get to Dunwall. Find Delilah._ ”

 

Corvo cradles him close, jumping when Daud puts a hand on his shoulder. “We will,” he promises. “We’ll find passage to Dunwall as soon as we can.”

 

“ _I had to push her out, set her loose. I’m sorry, my Corvo.”_ The feathers fall faster, dripping out of Corvo’s hands. “ _Find Delilah.”_ There’s a harsh noise, like nails skittering over a chalkboard. “ _Help m--”_

 

Jess’s body, and the Outsider’s voice vanish without a trace, leaving feathers that turn to ash in his hands.

 

Corvo feels his sudden loss like a punch in the gut. He inhales sharply, curling his arms around his waist, trying to shove down the well of sorrow that tightens his throat. “Corvo,” Daud says, and drags him into an embrace. “We’ll find her. We’ll figure this out.”

 

He can only stare down at the pile of ash in his hands. “For five _years_ he was my only friend,” Corvo murmurs. “He’s gone.”

 

Daud pulls him into his arms, and Corvo lets the ash fall to the ground, fisting his hands in Daud’s jacket. “We’ll find him,” Daud promises, and Corvo is just hopeless enough to let him lie.

 

They stand there on the sunny roof, Corvo huddling into Daud’s embrace, crying silent tears for the loss of his entire life. He pulls away an indeterminate amount of time later, eyes dry. He hardens his heart, walling up the pain behind metal and bone.

 

“Alright,” he says on a long sigh, looking down into Daud’s eyes. “We have some work to do.”

First, they need a Plague Cure. He’s not bringing Emily back to Dunwall without one. They’ll need to secure passage on a ship - somehow get around the blockade that Tyvia and Morley have around the Capital city - and figure out who will travel with them and who will stay.

 

He knows Thomas will come with, as will the Twins, and Emily, but the majority of the Whalers will remain in Serkonos where it’s safe - they can work with Armando and Theodanis, controlling the flow of information between them.

 

Corvo will have to practice with his new, unfamiliar and alien magic, learn how to manipulate the Void again.

 

“Corvo?” Daud says, with the tone of someone who has been saying his name for some time.

 

He looks down again, and Daud kisses him, drawing him in close. This kiss is different from the others, it’s warm and comforting and so heartfelt it makes Corvo’s chest seize up. He kisses back, cupping Daud’s face in his hands and holding him carefully. “Thank you,” he murmurs, when the kiss ends.

 

“For what?” Daud asks lightly, a small smile on his face.

 

“Sticking with me,” Corvo answers him, and kisses him again. This wasn’t how he expected things to go - he’d been glad of their friendship, glad of their ease. This though, this was better. It lessened the pain of his missing magic, his missing god, his missing friends.

 

He might not have the crows, not now, maybe not ever again, but in the end; he’s still their King.

 

“To Dunwall?” Daud asks.

 

Corvo nods. “To Dunwall.”

 

*The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To be Continued in: A Gathering of Bones; coming soon.]
> 
> Don't worry, the first Chapter of "A Gathering of Bones" will be posted on March 27th (though, as Sera continually points out, it's only Monday for ME lol). 
> 
> I will see you then. Good luck.


End file.
